


You never know how anything will change.

by barthelme



Series: Strange attraction spreads its wings. [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Ass to Mouth, Double Anal Penetration, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hotel Sex, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Rim Jobs or Tim Jobs, The softest of soft insecure boys, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex, same thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barthelme/pseuds/barthelme
Summary: Timmy, Armie, and Nick are teachers who find themselves sharing a room at a leadership conference. Golly, I wonder what could happen.
Relationships: Nick Delli Santi/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Nick Delli Santi/Armie Hammer
Series: Strange attraction spreads its wings. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611730
Comments: 460
Kudos: 338





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eliooliver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliooliver/gifts).

> This fic is done and I will post a chapter a day until Wednesday. <3

They check in just before ten at night and it’s like the god damn Six Flags trip all over again. 

“Maybe it’s under just ‘Santi.’ S-A-N-T-I,” Nick spells out. He shifts his duffel bag to his right arm and leans against the counter. Grins at the girl who types the letters with a very deliberate, ‘you aren’t going to be listed but okay, pal,’ cadence. “Or, maybe they spelled it--”

He will _not_ spend the weekend sleeping in the car. 

“Sir, I see no room reservations for Delli-Santi, Delli, Deli like the meat, or Santi. And, before you ask, I just checked for Santa, like the Claus, and there’s nothing under that, either.” She folds her hands on the counter and offers him a smile that is really just an impatient request to get out of the way so she can help other customers. There’s no vacancy, after all, like the blinking sign out front told them as they pulled up. As soon as Nick saw it, he thought, _I’m sleeping in the car. I know the school fucked up again and I’m sleeping in the car. I should have booked my own room._

And then he feels Timmy behind him before he hears him. Feels the easy way he slides up behind Nick and peers around his body. Asks, “Do you have any cots? He can room with us.” 

“I couldn’t--” Nick starts, but then Timmy pats his back, once, twice. Slides his hand down to the small of his back and squeezes softly. 

“Sure you can,” he grins and then starts telling the receptionist which room will need the cot. Finishes with, “And could you bring him an extra pillow or two?”

Nick doesn’t argue because his eyes hurt from driving the last few hours and a couple extra pillows sound amazing right now. 

And that’s how Nick ends up sleeping on a cot in the living area of Armie and Timmy’s hotel room. A cot that creaks every time he so much as breathes, holding his breath when he hears Armie and Timmy whispering from their king size bed. Barely making out a soft, “Love you,” and then the wet slide of tongues and a soft giggle. “Stop, Nick’s right there,” Timmy says. Unconvincing. 

“Fuck Nick.” 

He thinks he hears, “You wish,” but his imagination has been running quite wild the last few months.

_____

It started this summer when Armie was taking classes. Timmy had just moved into Armie’s one bedroom, one bathroom, charming and definitely haunted house just outside of town and he called Nick one night. Said, “So, Armie has a study group tonight.”

“And?” Nick smiled, because he knew where this was going. He’d stayed at Armie’s house one night when he’d had too much to drink to drive back to his apartment. 

“And I’m bored,” Timmy lied. “And I ordered way too much pizza for one person and there’s too much beer in the fridge, and, like, I think I heard something moving in the bedroom closet.” 

“Probably just a mouse,” Nick assured him, but he was already slipping his feet into flip-flops and walking to the bathroom to check his hair. He ran a hand through it and it flopped back out of his face. 

“Probably,” Timmy agreed without sounding convinced at all. “Or the ghost of some dead girl who was locked in there two hundred years ago because her evil stepmother was furious she forgot to bring her fresh milk for her--”

“I’m on my way, Timmy,” Nick laughed. They’d spent the night in the living room, eating and drinking, drinking, and drinking until Armie came home to find Timmy asleep, his head on Nick’s thigh. Nick’s hand awkwardly resting on Timmy’s shoulder like he was afraid to touch him. “You should get an exterminator.” 

Armie had dropped his bag by the front door and grinned when Timmy’s eyes fluttered open. “Is it the dead girl in the closet again?” 

Timmy and Nick spent most of the summer away from the haunted (“But the doors are all original!” Armie would argue every time either of them complained.) house. 

It wasn’t just the summer. The summer was harmless, really. Bike rides and minor league baseball games. Movies, concerts in the park, and lesson planning at the coffee shop near Nick’s apartment. The summer was Armie joking that Nick was keeping Timmy warm while he was studying when, really, they were just making sure the summer didn’t slip by. 

After all, Armie was always the one with the plans. Who scheduled the barbecues and bought tickets to basketball games and decided that they should blow off grading for a few hours to go bowling. Timmy and Nick spent the summer taking turns at being Armie. 

Then, summer ended and Nick was worried it would go back to Timmy and Armie with a side of Nick. But then, it was the first Friday of school and Nick was cleaning off his desk when Armie stuck his head in. Asked, “You coming over tonight? Timmy’s mom signed him up for this wine of the month club,” and, yeah. Of course he was coming over. 

It felt like before Armie and Timmy started dating. And it wasn’t quite Armie and Timmy and Nick, but it was Armie and Timmy (and Nick) and that was fine. 

That was fucking great. Because Nick had _friends_. He wasn’t so pathetic that he needed to be a third wheel in order to do anything social. It just happened that he liked both Armie and Timmy better than those friends. 

And, right, so maybe his imagination had started to run wild. Just a little bit. Because sometime in November, Nick slept on their couch and those original doors did very little to muffle the sounds of the bed springs and Timmy whispering, “Maybe we should move to the floor.”

“Nick knows we have sex,” Armie’d argued back, but then there were a couple thumps followed by a brief moment of silence.

The wood floors were possibly creakier than the bed springs.

Because Nick and Timmy share a lunch period and he realizes that Timmy is not only easy to hang out with, but easy to do nothing with. 

Because one night at the bar, Armie, the fucking asshole, teases Nick for having zero dating life and Nick tries to make a joke. Says, “But only my mother loves this mug,” and Timmy quickly chimes in, “Shut up, you know you’re hot, tell him he’s hot, Armie.” 

And there was a moment. A moment where Nick wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, run to the bar to grab another round, just fucking disappear. But then Armie’s hand slipped onto his thigh and (and so many _other_ moments came flooding back) he said, “You know I think Nick’s hot.” 

The thought stayed with him all night, even though he didn’t touch his cock until morning when he woke up in the middle of a dream that seemed etched in a distant reality. 

Because on the following Monday, Armie was waiting in the parking lot for Nick. Fell in step with him and asked what he did on Sunday, if he’d put anymore thought into the leadership conference in the spring, and, “So, you and Timmy like. Nothing ever happened, right? This summer?”

They were in the empty hallway then. Steps away from Nick’s classroom. Facing one another and Nick had to look up a bit to look Armie in the eye. “Of course not, Armie.” Wanted to hug him when he exhaled, but instead added, “You know I’d never do that.” 

And then he turned to his classroom and fished his keys from his pocket. Wasn’t surprised when Armie followed him in and said, “I know, I’m sorry. He just--”

“Armie, you _know_ I’d never do that, right?” Nick asks, and he starts to erase the notes from Friday off the board, mainly for something to do with his hands.

“Yeah, I think so. Shit, I have to make copies,” he said and then he was gone and Nick kept scrubbing at the board, long after it was clean, long after all the words were gone. 

Because between classes, Nick checked his phone and there were three texts from Armie. One from Timmy. 

Armie: _sry about this morning_  
Armie: _timmy just said some shit last ngiht and idk_  
Armie: _i got stupid about it_  
Nick: _No worries. Let me know if you want to talk at lunch._

Timmy: _Hey! Want to grab dinner tonight? Armie has class._  
Nick: _Sorry, I’ve got plans already._

Because he talked to Armie at lunch and poked and prodded until Armie said, “He asked if we’ve ever fucked, okay?”

“And what did you tell him?”

Armie’d shrugged. “The truth.”

_____

In the morning, Nick wakes up when the bathroom light strikes his face. He blinks his eyes and his vision clears. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Armie whispers and Nick sees a flash of his torso, a thick span of his thigh before the door is closing. 

Then the room is black again. Nick checks his phone. It’s not even six o’clock. He tucks his phone under his pillow and rolls on his side. Closes his eyes and tries to settle in again without making the cot squeak too much. Every wiry groan sounds like thunder, so he isn’t surprised when Timmy whispers, “Nick? Why don’t you switch over here? Armie will probably want to watch TV over there, anyways.”

Nick thinks about how warm Armie’s spot would be. The smell alone would probably put him back to sleep, a fond memory of a twin bed that barely fit one of them, let alone two. “M’fine.”

“Okay, well your creaking is keeping me awake, so get the fuck over here so I can sleep,” Timmy says. The sound of the covers being pulled back is like a car crash and Nick finds himself padding across the room. Sliding into bed and tugging the covers to his chin. 

The pillow smells like shampoo and shaving cream. He falls asleep once he hears the steady in and out of Timmy’s breaths.   
_____

The truth is they never fucked. Not when they became roommates (and fast friends) in college and not at any point after.

They spent the first week of classes in that awkward ‘College is weird, what is this freedom, when do you like to shower, is it okay if I turn the television on, oh you’re studying, what are your parents like, that sucks,' limbo. Thursday night, they went to a house party off campus and sometime before midnight, Armie shouted against the music and Nick’s neck, “You’re really hot,” like he didn’t care if anyone heard. Like he didn’t care if Nick knew. 

And then he bit his neck and Nick laughed, “Shut up,” but tilted his neck away so Armie had more space. Let his hand tangle in Armie’s hair when his lips softened and kissed down to his shirt, then licked up his neck to Nick’s jaw. Nick said, shouted, insisted, “I’m not gay,” and Armie pulled back and grinned. 

Shrugged. “So?” 

And that was enough for Nick because he pressed forward and kissed him, not hesitating to spread his lips for Armie’s tongue. Wrapped his arms around his shoulders and, before he knew it, they were drunkenly stumbling back to the dorms. Giggling as Armie struggled to unlock their door. Tumbling onto Nick’s bed and letting their mouths slot together, their bodies wrestle for dominance until deciding to settle on their sides. Armie’s thigh between Nick’s legs, both of their hard cocks pressed against the other’s body. Thrusting against one another while they kissed. Kissing long after the found release. Kissing until Armie tilted his chin back and said, “We should sleep.”

Falling asleep with their arms around one another. Waking up with Armie’s alarm and quick exchange of, “We cool?” 

It was a lot of that. 

A lot of admitting studying was getting to be too much and climbing under the covers together. Kissing and whispering, “It’s not a big deal,” “I’m just really horny,” “I trust you,” while touching themselves. Bridging the gap and letting their hands slip under waistbands. Grip the others’ cock and jerk them until their dick jumped in their first and made a mess they couldn’t ignore.

Sometimes, they’d grind against one another like the first time, but it was rare. 

When they moved off campus, they looked for a two bedroom apartment, but Armie asked, “It’s okay if we still…?”

And Nick laughed. Shoved his shoulder and then sucked Armie’s cock for the first and only time. It wasn’t something he really liked, but he loved the way Armie whispered his name and stroked his hair. He couldn’t take more than a few inches without gagging but Armie kept whispering, “Niki,” and maybe, possibly Nick came in his pants. 

They didn’t talk about it because, you know, bros.

The truth is that they never fucked, and they mostly fooled around when they were drunk, but Nick regretted nothing. Was friends with a lot of guys, but it was always just Armie that he fell into horizontal positions with. Never even kissed any other guys. Dated girls, but when those came crashing down in a typical, barely adult manner, Armie was always there with steady hands and a greedy mouth. 

(And Nick knew Armie liked cock, knew he held himself back a bit at first. Waited for Nick to ask for it, to say, “Would you? You don’t have to but even if you just--” thinking that if Armie didn’t want to take him in his mouth, he could just just give him his tongue. If he could just have his tongue, a few kisses, that would be enough. But then Armie was on his cock. Sucking him down and looking up at him with a smile in his eyes. A look that said everything without saying, “I love you.” 

God, Nick had the best roommate ever. He had the best _friend_ ever because Armie was honestly everything he’d ever wanted in a human that he didn’t plan on taking to dinner. )

So, yeah. They never fucked, and Nick didn’t really think about it, but the thought crossed his mind. Abstractly. Like _deja vu_.   
_____

Nick woke to an empty bed and a note taped onto the bathroom door. “Went to breakfast. See you at check in?”

_____

Armie is easy to find. Leaning against a wall, looking through his phone. Wearing a name tag that said, “Armand Hammer.”

“Oh, hello, Armand,” Nick said. 

“Fuck off,” Armie grins and pushes away from the wall. “Did you check in?”

Nick points at his own name tag. “Nickolas Deli Santa.” 

Armie snorts and says, “There’s a breakfast buffet.” 

“Didn’t you just--”

“A waffle. bar.” he enunciates and that’s all Nick needs to know. They walk into the main conference hall and fill their plates with things that would never find a home in their cupboards. Muffins and mini-pancakes and cookies that were probably supposed to be served with lunch, so they both grabbed a few just in case. 

They talk about what speakers they plan to see and Armie says, “Timmy’s found some mall,” and rolls his eyes and Nick laughs and drinks his orange juice. “Have you thought about signing up for--”

Nick shrugs. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe after all this.”

Armie nods. Takes a bite of his muffin. Swallows. Looks up and easily asks, “So, this morning, Timmy didn’t make you feel--”

“No,” Nick shrugs. “The cot was loud and he said it was keeping him awake.”

“I really like him,” Armie says. 

Nick laughs. “I’m aware. What with the living together and the--”

“You like him, don’t you?” 

And Nick forgets to breathe for a millisecond. Wonders what Armie is asking. Does he _like_ Timmy? Not more than he likes Armie. Does he think about Timmy? Not without Armie. 

Does he _like_ Armie? A bit, but not in the way Timmy does. Enough to appreciate that Armie and Timmy are special. That they’re something people strive for. 

But then he flips it. Armie loves Nick; he knows this. Knows it from the way Armie always texts him on the weekends and stops in his classroom before class on Monday. 

Armie actually wants to know if Nick likes Timmy. “Yeah,” he says, “Of course.”

Armie smiles and stands up before saying, “He likes you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely thrilled with this chapter, but it is what it is. Onward!

It’s a long day of lectures. One of Nick’s runs long, so he misses Armie for lunch. Eats with some local teachers and discusses trying to relate literature to their students’ economic backgrounds. Spends most of the time nodding and taking small bites of his ham sandwich so that his mouth is always full. 

He makes soft plans to meet up with some of them later, but knows he’ll flake out. He’s not like Armie, who networks easily and makes friends in minutes. It’s why Armie is good at all this leadership bullshit. Why he’s already enrolled in a Master’s program for School Administration, while Nick keeps saying, “Oh, maybe next semester. Definitely next semester.”

It’s why Armie has someone like Timmy in his life and Nick is swiping his way through Tinder and Grindr like the love of his life is just another awkward night of drinks followed by--usually--even more awkward sex or handjobs and an insanely awkward departure with promises of calling and yadda, yadda, yadda. 

He’s maybe has two second dates in the last year and one of those was only because he forgot to cancel before the end of the day and felt obligated to show up. 

When he gets back to the room, it’s dark outside and his brain is swimming. Swimming with thoughts of how to boost teacher morale after the holidays, what to do when students don’t respond to typical discipline tactics, the best way to implement policy changes, and so many things that Nick wants to be told, not do. 

“I’m going to use the gym,” he says and pulls his shirt off before rummaging in his bag for gym clothes. Throws it on his cot and then looks up to see Timmy standing in the middle of the room with his swim trunks in hand. He looks like he’s been caught in the middle of _thinking_ about changing and has frozen. “Oh, Armie’s--”

“In the bathroom,” Timmy says, too quickly. His eyes dart from where they were floating around Nick’s torso up to his face. He doesn’t look him in the eye, and that alone makes him seem like anything but Timmy. Timmy, who is always friendly smiles and quick hugs. Easy compliments that seem like they’re bordering on flirtation, but Nick knows better, knows that’s just how Timmy talks. He treats everyone like that, and everyone falls in love with him in return, even if most people just fall in love with the idea of him. The Timmy they see in the hall, in front of the classroom, at the store, at dinner. “We’re gonna,” he holds up his trunks. 

“Right,” Nick says and then he toes his shoes off and pushes his pants to the ground and, right, maybe he tightens his abs a bit as he leans over to grab a different t-shirt. Takes his time pulling it over his head before grabbing his gym shorts and _what the fuck are you doing,_ he says to himself, but it sounds like Armie’s voice. 

He blushes and quickly pulls his shorts on. Sits down on the cot to put his tennis shoes on and dares a look at Timmy, who has sat down on his own bed. 

He looks like Timmy again. A soft smile that still manages to reach his eyes. He’s leaning back on his hands, his trunks resting over his lap. They’re red and Nick is pretty sure the same color will soon be on his cheeks. What the fuck was he doing? Was he trying to show off? Timmy is dating _Armie_, ( Timmy is _fucking_ Armie, like not only getting all of him mentally, but _all_ of him, and Nick never got that. Almost, partially, but not all.) who is always a little bit more. 

Armie is slightly taller, more muscular, louder, funnier. Probably smarter, but Nick doesn’t want to think about that. He’s plenty smart. He does well when they go out for trivia, but he usually defers to Armie when there’s two opinions. When Armie’s wrong, he shrugs and doesn’t apologize. Nick spends the entire _night_apologizing if he thinks Ford had to be the first motor brand to offer seat belts (it was Nash Motors, of course not Ford. Ford is so fucking obvious, Nick.)

Armie is just _more_ and Nick is like--

\--he’s like--

\--fuck.--

He stands up and repeats, “I’m going to use the gym.” Grabs the key card that he’d thrown on the cot. Doesn’t get a step away before Timmy clears his throat. 

“Niki?” 

_Fuck._

Nick swallows and holds the key card in his palm until the edges feel like they might cut through. He turns around, not sure what to expect. Worried Timmy has removed his shirt, his pants. God forbid, tousled his hair out of his face. Bit his lip. 

He’s such a terrible person.

(And why is he thinking this? It’s like the summer all over again. Or not really the summer, but the end of summer. The end of the summer when Armie finished up with classes, but Timmy would still ask Nick out for coffee. Would reach across the table and fix his hair or would turn to him on the walk back to the car and ask, “Do I have something on my face,” and stopping. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk so Nick had to stop too. Had to stop and look at Timmy’s upturned face. Eyes wide and mouth slightly open. 

“No,” Nick had said, too quick because there was a bit of chocolate from his muffin on the side of his mouth. Not on his mouth, but a few millimeters from the crease. 

Timmy was a messy eater.

Timmy started to walk away and then Nick grabbed his arm--tried not to put too much of his mind into the feeling of Timmy’s thin arm wrapped in the circle of his fingers, how his muscles flexed then relaxed, tensed, then softened. Gave in to Nick. “Actually, there’s a little,” and he tried to rub the chocolate off with his thumb, but it didn’t budge. 

So, he licked his thumb and then swiped it across the chocolate once, twice. It vanished and he let go of Timmy, who, by now, was staring up at him. Grinning.

“Thanks, Mom,” Timmy said. “Wait, no, even my mom doesn’t clean my face with spit anymore because I’m--”

“Shut up,” Nick said and playfully shoved his shoulder. Started to walk away quickly, using his long legs to his advantage, making Timmy jog after him. So he didn’t have to see his face and so Timmy didn’t see the blush on his. 

In the car, Nick looked out the window while Timmy kept his hands at ten and two. Always so safe. 

They were minutes from Nick’s apartment when Timmy asked, “Do you think I’m good for Armie?” Sighed. “I mean, like, are we good together?” 

Again, Nick answered too quickly. “I think you’re perfect.”)

But, no, Timmy was just leaning back. Head cocked to the side. An errant curl hanging over his face. “You can join us, you know.”

Nick nods. Shoots his thumb back at the door. “I’d really rather jog or--”

And then the bathroom door opens and Armie steps out. Slaps Nick on the shoulder. “Nick, hey!” He’s in just his swim trunks, a towel thrown over his shoulder. “We’re going for a--”

“Nick wants to go to the gym.”

Nick’s eyes trail down to Armie’s chest, his thighs. Up to his eyes. He offers a soft grin. “You don’t need to workout,” Armie says. Wraps his arm around Nick’s shoulder and draws him in closer. His body is warm, so fucking hot. 

(God, he remembers Armie pressing him against a too small bed, the shower, a hallway. His body always like a furnace, his tongue like fire. His words scorching.

He also remembers the heat of Armie’s hugs. The warmth of his smiles across the hallway.)

“I just need to burn some energy,” Nick says. He wiggles out of Armie’s grasp. Walks to the door and leaves. 

He stands outside for a moment after the door closes. He’s not sure what he’s listening for, but even a whisper would be helpful.  
____

The gym is above the pool because _this is Nick’s life and of course it fucking is._ He’s on mile two when he notices movement below. He tries to focus on the television above his head, above the window that looks over the pool, but he can’t help but focus on Timmy pulling his shirt over his head. Armie, of course, already in just his trunks. Because he can walk down a hallway almost naked and have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to worry about or care about because he is Armie. 

(The end of the summer was rough. 

[And _FUCK_ how bad of a friend is Nick that he was upset Armie was around more? That he didn’t want his best fucking friend to be around when he used to be the only person Nick wanted to see?]

And he would join in on their coffee dates and rub his hand along Timmy’s back the entire time. When they’d be browsing the farmer’s market and he would pull Timmy into a random kiss. And, fuck, during movies, when he would lean in and press his lips to Timmy’s neck, his ear. Whisper, “Can’t wait to taste you later,” and “Want to fuck you with my tongue until you want to come,” and, “Going to make you beg for me, make you cry for me,” because if Nick knows one thing about Armie he knows a million and at least a tenth of those facts are how he has a dirty as fuck mouth and no shame.

The end of summer was rough because Nick never pretended he and Timmy were anything other than friends, but he definitely pretended he could ever land someone like Timmy. And the truth is--fuck, it just keeps coming up and circling in his mind, it’s so dumb, he’s so dumb--he is not Armie and he will never get a Timmy. 

The end of summer was rough.

The end of summer was rough because it felt lonely even though Timmy and Armie were always there, There, THERE. In his face and everywhere. Fuck, he sounds like a Dr. Suess book.)

Nick doesn’t watch, but he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t look away when Timmy walks down the steps into the water. Floats on his back. His hair fans out and it looks delicate, soft. He doesn’t look away when Armie just leaps into the pool, splashing Timmy and sending waves in all directions. When Timmy laughs and stands up. Waits for Armie to surface then puts his fists together and draws them along the edge of the water to splash him in the face. 

He looks, but he doesn't watch. No. Definitely doesn’t watch as Armie leaps at Timmy. Latches around his waist and pulls him underwater. Doesn’t watch the water churn at they struggle. As they reemerge and Armie is clearly standing. Holding Timmy up. It’s a blur, but it becomes pretty clear that Timmy’s legs are wrapped around Armie’s waist. Clear because Armie’s hands dip below the water to presumably grab Timmy’s ass. Holds him up as his head dips down to burrow in his neck, his shoulder. As he lifts him up a bit to kiss his sternum. Timmy’s dips his head back as Armie kisses his chest, his collarbones. 

His chin. God. Armie kisses Timmy’s chin like it’s the most precious thing on Earth, and Nick blindly reaches for buttons. Slows the treadmill to a fast walk. He feels hot. Too hot. 

Armie kisses Timmy’s cheek. Starts walking to the side of the pool. Carefully lifts Timmy up onto the edge, then wraps his arms around him and just. 

God, he just hugs him, and it’s the most intimate thing Nick’s seen. Armie wraps his arms around Timmy’s body and sinks into him. Tan skin enveloping pale. For a moment, it looks like it’s Timmy who is supporting Armie. Not with arms or hands, but just by being there. 

And then, Armie is back. Kissing Timmy’s neck. Maybe doing more. Doing _something_ to make Timmy’s head fall back, his mouth spread open with what might be a moan if--

Right. If they weren’t in a pool, by themselves without some fucking pervert watching from above and thinking about what it might feel like to slide up next to them or behind Armie or--

Fuck. 

He really shouldn’t be thinking this. He shouldn’t be watching this or even _wanting_ to watch this. He’d had his chance with Armie but was never confident enough to take it. And Timmy? Timmy was never an option. Timmy was Armie’s the moment they first shook hands and Armie’s face lit up like Timmy was the last piece of a puzzle. 

Nick shuts the treadmill off and wipes his brow with the hem of his shirt. Walks up to the window because he can’t fucking help himself and. 

And. 

Right. And of course Timmy is looking up at him. Legs wrapped around Armie’s torso. Head tilted to the side so Armie has all the space in the world to make his mark. 

Nick wants to leave, but he can’t. He can’t because Timmy’s not just looking at him. He’s grinning and mouthing something that looks a lot like, “Come on, Niki.”

But, he could be saying anything. He could be talking to Armie. He could be---fuck. He could be talking to himself. He could be saying anything. They’re so far away. 

But then Timmy leans down to Armie’s ear and “Fuck,” Nick whispers because Armie turns his head and makes eye contact with him. 

He backs away quickly because maybe Armie had water in his eye or maybe he winked at him. 

Maybe. 

Whatever. He needs a shower, anyways. 

_____

Nick goes back to the room. Stands in the middle of the room and notices a pile of Armie and Timmy’s clothes. It’s next to their suitcase. _Their_ suitcase. They brought one. Of course they brought one. They’re a couple who live together; why would they pack two bags? 

Armie maybe even packed for both of them. Knew what clothes to grab for Timmy, how many pairs of socks. There’s probably just one tube of toothpaste. Shared shampoo and the thought of sharing shampoo with someone makes Nick’s face hot. He wants to share shampoo and use someone else’s deodorant and not _care_ if they forget their toothbrush because, “Just use mine.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” Nick says to the room. He strips his clothes off and leaves them in a pile by how own suitcase. 

In the shower, Nick uses the hotel’s soap to wash the sweat from his body. He tries not to think about Timmy and Armie in the pool, even though he’s pretty certain that’s exactly what they want him to be doing. But it’s torture to think about and torture to _not_ think about. 

He’s been jealous before. Usually of Armie. But this? It doesn’t feel like jealousy. It’s not quite envy. Nick doesn’t know what the hell it is. All he knows is that he’s happy for Armie and Timmy and he doesn’t want exactly what they have. He wants something that’s his own, but it might be nice to borrow their relationship, even for a short time. 

He puts the bar of soap down and looks for the tiny bottle of shampoo. It had made his hair dry feeling but somehow greasy looking today. Then, he notices their shampoo. It’s in a small, silicone travel container. Green with an “S” written in Sharpie on the side. There’s a matching blue container with a “C.”

They wouldn’t mind, would they? Nick blushes, thinking about Timmy sniffing his hair. Asking, “Did you use our shampoo, Niki?” and leaning in for another whiff. 

He opens the shampoo; it’s a familiar scent that smells more like Armie than Timmy. Timmy doesn’t wash his hair every day. Why does Nick know this? Shit. 

Before he can stop himself, before he can think about how this is a bit weird, before he can think about how maybe there won’t be enough for Timmy and Armie to use later, Nick squirts a dollop in his palm. Puts the bottle back and goes about washing his hair. Scrubbing the shampoo down into his scalp and smoothing it from root to tip. He spends more time washing his hair than he normally does. Uses the suds to rub the back of his neck, his chest. 

Eventually tips his head back and lets the shampoo wash away. 

He doesn’t use their conditioner. That would be too much. 

He turns the water off and is grabbing a towel when he hears them come in. Hears Armie say, “I’m so fucking tired, baby.”

“It’s only--”

“I’m _tired_,” Armie repeats. 

“Well, _I’m_ horny. Nice to meet you.”

Nick presses the towel to his face. Fuck. He coughs, in case they weren’t aware he was in the room. 

“Dad jokes, really? You think dad jokes are the way to my cock?” 

They’re right outside the door. Nick dramatically throws the curtain open, the scratch of metal on metal startling. 

“No, I think this is the way to your--”

“Timmy, Nick is literally--”

“--So? Nothing he hasn't already seen, right?”

At that, Nick swallows. His cheeks burn.

Nick dries his chest, his arms. His skin is hot from the shower, from Timmy’s words. God, what has Armie told him? Did he tell him about their first time (first incident? First contact? First whatever the fuck you would call it) or maybe the time at that house party? Did he tell him about how Nick was so drunk he rubbed himself off against Armie’s thigh while Armie whispered, “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you? Going to come in your pants? Are you, Niki? Going to come in your pants and have to walk home like that? Everyone will know. Everyone’s going to know that you came in your pants because you couldn’t wait, couldn’t help yourself. That you’re such a filthy boy.” 

And Nick had come in his pants and Armie kissed the tip of his nose and told him, “Give me two minutes, okay?” And left Nick alone in some stranger’s bathroom. Came back with stolen gym shorts and a plastic bag. “Wear these.” Did he tell Timmy that Armie was the one who put his dirtied pants in the plastic bag and carried it out of the house party, deflecting questions about the bag’s contents as they left. Did he tell Timmy that? 

“Timmy, I’m serious.” Timmy must give up because then Armie says, “Put that lip away and give me a kiss.” 

Nick dries his legs and then scrubs his hair dry. Looks in the mirror. His hair sticks up at odd angles and he tries to smooth it down. Too flat. He messes it up again and then wraps the towel around his waist. Debates shaving, but remembers he left his toiletry bag in the room. 

Realizes that he didn’t bring a change of clothes in. 

“Fuck me,” he whispers. He’s going to have to go out into the room where Armie is still probably in his trunks--where Timmy is probably still in his trunks--and scramble for clothes. Going to have to make the decision between dressing in front of them or carrying his clothes back to the bathroom like he’s embarrassed. No, not even like he’s embarrassed. Like he’s worried they’d look. That they’d watch him. 

That they’d give him the time of--

There’s a soft knock and then the door cracks open a bit, just enough for a voice to fit through.. “Niki? I didn’t see your bag open and I thought you might have forgotten your clothes,” Timmy says.

Nick’s hand goes to his mouth. He grins into his palm. Of course Timmy would notice that. 

“Do you need these?” The door opens a bit more. Just enough for Timmy to slip in gym shorts, boxers, and a t-shirt. Folded neatly. Nick definitely didn’t pack them like that. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks, Timmy.” He moves to grab the clothes and the door opens a bit more during the exchange. Not much, just enough for Timmy to come into sight. Enough for Timmy to grin at him and dart a glance down Nick’s body. 

“No problem,” Timmy says and then he closes the door. 

_____

Nick has barely even opened the door when Armie is standing up from the cot and lightly tapping Nick’s cheek. “Let’s get beer.” 

“Ugh,” Nick responds, remembering how Armie had claimed to be tired literally minutes ago. Wonders if he wasn’t supposed to hear that. “It’s--”

“I just checked and there’s a liquor store two blocks from here,” Armie says. He’s wearing pajama pants and a thin t-shirt. “We can walk.”

Timmy speaks up from the bed. He’s in matching pajama pants (Fuck, did they get them as a present? It looks like the type of thing Armie’s mom would buy) and a hoodie. His hair is wet. “If you get an IPA, I won’t put out for like a month.” 

“We both know that’s not true,” Armie says without looking away from Nick. “You in or are you staying here with Timmy?”

“No, he’s going. Nick, if you come back in this room with an IPA, I will sign you up to chaperone the Spring Fling.” 

Nick laughs and grabs his hoodie.

____

In the elevator, Armie presses the button for the lobby and then asks, “Did you have a good run?” 

Nick clears his throat. He barely remembers his run. Can vividly recall wet skin and winks, but barely remembers the slap of his shoes on the treadmill or the ache of his calves. “Yeah.” 

“Good,” Armie says as the elevator stops on the third floor. A man nods at them as he enters. Nick thinks he looks familiar. It might be one of the teachers he’d made soft plans with for tonight. “Hope we weren’t too distracting,” Armie says. Nudges Nick with his elbow. 

“What? No, not at--” he coughs. “Not at all.” 

He stares as the numbers lights up. 3-2-1. 

The doors open and Armie leans over. Whispers, voice deep and low, “You sure?” 

They walk through the lobby and Nick says, “Yeah. I mean, I saw you guys, but I was, you know.” He holds the door open for Armie. “Done. I was done with my run.” 

“Oh, so you saw us,” Armie comments. He points to the left and they start walking. “Timmy says you were watching.” 

“I wasn’t--” Nick stops so he can swallow. His throat his dry. He shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket and puts his head down. “I wasn’t watching.” 

“Okay,” Armie says. “But you wanted to, didn’t you?” 

They stop at the intersection. Armie looks both ways, then walks. Nick can see the liquor store ahead. They might need more than just beer. “What? No, I--”

“It’s okay,” Armie says. Nick dares a glance over at him. His head is high. A soft smirk on his lips. “Timmy wanted you to watch, Nick.” 

“I--”

“He wanted you to come for a swim.”

They turn into the parking lot of the liquor store and walk towards the building. There’s a sale on vodka. “Armie, I, like. I just saw you guys and I--”

Armie stops, feet from the entrance. Turns to Nick. Licks his lips and says, “I wanted you to come for a swim, too.” Then, he opens the door and walks in. The bells on the door ring and fall silent as it closes behind him. 

They get a sample pack of some local beer. Nick grabs a six pack of a generic IPA and Armie laughs. Says, “Hope you like awkward dances.” 

Armie pays. Says, “You need to carry that. I already pissed Timmy off tonight,” and shoves the IPA at him. Nick thinks about Armie saying he’s tired. 

The walk back is slow. They stop at the intersection again and Armie says, "So, I've always wondered--and this is dumb and you don’t need to answer. You can just forget I said anything, if you want.” 

They cross the street and Nick blindly says, “I’ll answer.”

They walk a half block in silence until Armie finally stops. Rubs a hand over his head. Nick likes when Armie keeps his hair short. Likes that nothing is there to distract from his face. “Why didn’t--” he licks his lips. Stares at Nick. It feels weird, standing outside a hotel, holding beer, not sure what to say to his best friend. “Back then, why didn’t you want anything more?” 

The question kicks Nick in the gut. 

“I’m sorry, it’s stupid,” Armie says, and he keeps walking. 

Nick doesn’t think, he just moves. Grabs Armie by the arm and pulls him back. Presses him against the side of the hotel and it’s awkward with the beer and the building and the years. But he stands in front of him, too close, definitely too close. “Armie,” he whispers. “I was a dumb kid.” Their lips hover together. Nick can taste Armie’s breath. All he has to do is lean in and take him, but he can’t. He won’t. Timmy is a few floors above and Nick likes him. Likes them. Knows what they have is better than anything Nick and Armie might have had. He steps back and says, “I’m sorry.”

He holds the door open for Armie. 

In the elevator, Armie sets the case of beer down. Pushes Nick against the wall. Holds him by the jaw and presses a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back and asking, "Do you wish we would have tried?” 

Nick nods. He nods and Armie backs up. Grabs the beer as the elevator dings open and they arrive on their floor. 

____

“You dumb fuck,” Timmy says when Nick presents him with the IPA. He playfully slaps his cheek and then pushes past him to get at the sample pack Armie has set on the desk. 

“I kissed Nick,” Armie blurts out like he truly can't help the words from exploding into the room. Timmy freezes, then shrugs. Opens up the case and grabs a stout. Nick sets the beer down next to the sample pack. Grabs one and opens it on the side of the desk. 

“Ok,” Timmy says. He sits down on the cot and takes a sip of his beer. Crosses his legs. He doesn’t look up. Seems very focused on the lip of his beer. "When do I get to kiss Nick, then?"

Armie shrugs. Grabs an IPA and asks, “I don’t know, Nick. When does Timmy get to kiss you?” 

_Now. Right now. Everywhere, anytime. Anywhere._

“Um,” Nick says and sits down on the bed. Takes a long pull from his beer. 

Armie laughs. “You can answer that after a few beers, Niki.” 

_____

The last time was weird. The last time Armie and Nick fooled around, it was a week before finals. Armie had two big exams and he was stressed. So stressed that he was forgetting to eat, so Nick brought him lunch, dinner. Snacks. Helped with with flash cards and laid in bed beside him at night. Stroked his hair and told him he had to sleep. 

One night, Armie woke up and pressed kisses against Nick’s chest, his abs. Slipped his boxers off and sucked his cock. Pressed his legs apart and lapped at his balls. Slipped his tongue lower and, fuck, it felt so good but what the fuck were they doing? What the fuck was all of this? They hadn’t even been on a date, and then Armie was pressing a finger to his hole and Nick sat up, said, “I don’t know if--”

And Armie backed away. Put his hands up and said, “No, yeah, you’re right,” like they were both asking and answering questions that didn’t exist.

_____

A few beers later, Armie, Nick, and Timmy are shoulder to shoulder to shoulder on the bed, watching _House Hunters._ Nick’s head feels light and he barely notices it when Timmy’s hand slips to his thigh. When he turns to him and nuzzles against his neck, his ear. Whispers, “I’m going to kiss you now,” before slipping into his lap and bracing his hands on Nick’s shoulders. Leaning down and pressing their lips together and--

Fuck. His lips are soft. Not rough and solid like Armie’s. Not demanding. They’re soft and yielding and he kisses Nick’s upper lip, his lower. The side of his mouth, his cheek. Leans back and turns to Armie, who presses forward and kisses Timmy, deep and immediate. Tongue slipping into his mouth and then pulling back. Letting teeth tug at Timmy’s lower lip. 

Timmy turns his head back to Nick and asks, “More?” 

Nick nods. Opens his mouth to Timmy who licks inside and slides his tongue against Nick, who wishes he hadn’t drank so much. Wishes he hadn’t had the IPAs Timmy hates, because he can taste the stouts on Timmy’s tongue. Searches for the taste that is Timmy. 

Timmy, Nick finds out, tastes sweet. He tastes open and willing, giving and needy. He kisses like he wants everything Nick has to offer. Timmy is greedy, and Nick loves it. When he pulls back, Timmy pushes forward and bites his tongue, his lips. Threads his fingers through Nick’s hair while Armie whispers, “Fuck, that’s hot.”

When Nick manages to pull back for a breath, Timmy is immediately on Armie. Kissing him and laughing against his lips. Hips clenching against Nick’s, holding him there and making him feel wanted, needed. 

Timmy finally seems to get his fill. Sits back and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Can you,” he gestures at them. “Just once, please,” he asks like he's thought about it once or twice before. 

And Nick turns to Armie, who doesn’t hesitate. Kisses Nick like they’re in the dorms again. “Fuck,” Timmy hisses. Trails a hand down Nick’s chest and presses his hips against him. Leans down enough to slide their cocks together and Nick is so glad Timmy is just as hard as he is. He takes a wild guess that it’s okay to press his palm against Armie’s crotch and, shit. He’d forgotten how he felt. How _this_ felt. 

Nick rocks up against Timmy and searches for, finds Armie’s zipper. Slips it down and slides his hand into Armie’s pants as Armie deepens their kiss. 

“Fuck,” Timmy repeats. Whispers, “Niki, we don’t have to--”

And maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the heat of Armie’s cock in his palm which fuck is so familiar and good and sweet. Maybe it's how eager Timmy seems to see them together, to be together and, as a result, Nick's need to please him. Maybe it’s the taste of Timmy’s tongue, but Nick is guiding Timmy off of his body. Rolling onto his belly between Armie’s legs and taking his cock into his mouth. He sucks on the head and takes him in, inch by inch.

“Niki, baby,” Armie whispers and Nick could just cry because everything feels the same, feels better, feels like more. He isn’t sure why he didn’t like this before, why he only did it the one time. 

Timmy says, “Fuck, he’s so pretty,” before sliding down and pressing his thumb to the edge of Nick’s lips. Feels the push and pull as Nick slides his mouth over Armie’s cock. Leans down further and replaces his thumb with his tongue. 

Nick pulls off Armie’s cock and licks down the side; can’t believe the sensation of his tongue slipping against Timmy’s as they work over Armie’s cock. 

“I’m--” Armie starts. Gives a labored breath before admitting, “I’m not going to last long with you two, fuck.” 

Nick kisses the base of his cock and then laps at the head. Pauses for a moment when his tongue finds Timmy’s. Sucks on the flesh and then returns to the heat of Armie’s dick. Every now and then opens his eyes and is met with a desperate look from Timmy. Reaches for his hips and tries to slot them together, but the angle is weird. 

It doesn’t matter, because Armie is cursing, gripping the base of his cock and stroking in short strong jerks. “Niki? Nick, I’m--” Armie pleads and Nick nods a silent permission, a go ahead that he'd never given him in college. And then, Armie is grunting as he comes. Splashing over Nick’s face, Timmy’s jaw. Not stopping as they kiss, as they press his come between their tongues. As Nick rolls on top of Timmy and slides their cocks together again. Thrusts against him, soft but confident until Timmy is pleading, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” and Nick speeds up, not caring if he looks desperate as he comes. Soaking through his shorts. Against Timmy. Armie’s hand in his hair.

Fuck. 

What the fuck. 

Nick slides a hand across his face. Pushes Armie’s come away from his eyes. Rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling. 

That felt like a lot. 

“I”m--” Nick starts, but then Timmy’s lips are on his cheek, his forehead. 

Armie sits up and brushes Nick’s hair back. 

“That--” Nick starts again. 

“That was amazing, “ Timmy whispers. “That was amazing, Niki.” 

Nick snorts and throws his arm over his face. 

_____

In the morning, Nick wakes up with a headache. He drank too much. Or not enough, because he can remember everything from the night before. He stares at the ceiling and tries not to move. There’s a head on his shoulder and a hand on his abdomen. He remembers kissing Timmy. Remembers Timmy’s tongue and Armie’s cock slipping between their mouths. 

He remembers showering first. Being joined by Timmy who just scrubbed his hair and swiped a hand over his cock. Kissed Nick’s cheek and cheekily said, "I thought you'd take a bit more convincing.”

Remembers starting to sit down on the cot only for Armie to say, “Get over here, Nick.”

Remembers kissing Armie (and kissing, and kissing and kissing) with a sleepy tongue while Timmy scratched his nails down his back. Whispered words of encouragement and--

He blinks. The ceiling has a weird spackling pattern and he traces his eyes over it. Tries to find some sort of symmetry, but instead is drawn away by a firm hand on his chest. “You two have breakfast soon,” Timmy whispers. There’s a slight hesitation, then his lips are on Nick’s cheek. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Nick says. He sits up crawls out of the bed. Pulls the covers back over Timmy and Armie, even though Timmy sits up and watches him. 

Armie seems dead to the world. He's always slept like a log. 

Nick goes to his bag and pulls out a fresh pair of jeans. A button up. It’s wrinkled but he doesn’t care. He dresses and keeps his back to the bed. Flashes come back from the prior night and he can’t believe he did that. He can’t believe they did that. He worries, as he buttons his shirt, that this will somehow have a negative effect on Timmy and Armie’s relationship. That it will cause an argument, a fight. Fuck. 

Fuck, what was he thinking? What were they thinking? What was--

“Nick,” Timmy says. “Are you okay?”

Nick’s fingers shake against the buttons of his shirt. “I just--”

“We want you here, okay? We want you to be here,” Timmy says. 

Nick turns. Asks, “Do you?”

Without lifting his head or opening his eyes, Armie says, “Yes, you idiot.” 

Timmy slaps his shoulder and Nick laughs. “Okay,” he says. 

Okay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The relief of more than two people enjoying this is overwhelming. Thanks, everyone! <3

At breakfast, Armie takes a bite of waffle. Shoves it into his cheek so a lump forms and and says, “Timmy wants me to make sure you’re okay.” He says it like he’s being asked to take out the garbage, do the dishes, pay the gas bill. He swallows and asks, “Are you okay?”

But then Nick looks away and rolls his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat that is probably thicker than Armie’s waffles. 

“Nick,” Armie says. Leans forward and reaches across the table to touch his elbow. “You are okay, right? Like you didn’t feel--”

Nick shrugs. Looks back at Armie and says, “I just feel weird.” 

“Bad weird?” Armie asks. Pushes his plate away. His waffle is almost whole. He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Nick opens his mouth. Groans and cracks his neck. Leans forward and whispers, “I feel like I just shared my best friend’s cock with his _boyfriend_ and then dry humped said boyfriend like a fifteen year old, okay?” He glances to his side. Hopes no one heard a single word, but everyone at the tables next to them seem pretty involved in their own discussions. 

“In your defense,” Armie smiles, “It was really hot.” 

Nick throws a sugar packet at Armie and then puts his elbows on the table. Buries his face in his hands. “This isn’t going to fuck things up between you and Timmy, is it?” 

He doesn’t look up even when there’s silence. Even when there’s the scrape of Armie’s chair on tile. The heat of his body as he slides into the chair next to Nick. He tries to hide, still, when Armie tugs on his wrist. Pulls Nick’s hand from his face and then holds it in his hand. “Nick, look at me.” He does. Armie swipes his thumb over Nick’s knuckles. “Timmy wanted--” Stops himself, then starts again. “We wanted everything that happened last night, okay? We’ve talked about it and, I’m going to admit that I wasn’t really sure about it at first because I’ve been a bit jealous of how close you and Timmy have gotten. But,” he grins. “Last night was amazing, okay? But, if you regret it, then we don’t have to do it again. We don’t have to--”

“You want to do it _again_?” Nick interjects. Laughs and reaches for his fork. Snags a piece of Armie’s waffle and shoves it in his mouth. “Armie, I don’t want to be like. Your boyfriend or--”

“We don’t _want_ you to be our boyfriend,” Armie says. Clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “This sounds too much like a dine and dash.”

“A dick and dash,” Nick corrects. 

Armie squeezes his hand. Quickly leans in to kiss his cheek. “We don’t want this to be more than this weekend, okay? And if that’s not okay, then we’re done. We love you too much to--”

“I don’t want more than this weekend,” Nick says. He couldn’t _take_ much more than this weekend. Would definitely get attached or hurt. And he doesn’t want what they have, anyways. He wants his own relationship. His own person. His own half. 

Armie lets go over Nick’s hand. Trails his fingers up to his elbow, his bicep. Wraps an arm around Nick and leans in to whisper, “Are you sure?”

Nick nods, and doesn’t mean to, but he ends up leaning against Armie. Tucking his head against his cheek. “Are _you_ sure?” Remembers Armie in his classroom, worried that something was going on between Nick and Timmy. “If you don’t want to, you can blame me. Tell Timmy, I--”

“He wants you to fuck him,” Armie says. Voice low and steady, like he’s holding back. Like he’s holding in a sense of urgency and excitement. Need, want, trust. “And then he wants us to fuck him, okay?” 

Nick sits up. Pulls away from Armie’s grip and pushes a hand through his hair. Coughs into his shoulder and feels like he’s choking. “And, ugh, what do you. You know. What do you want?” 

He can’t bring himself to look at Armie. Focuses on the dumb bowl of fruit he picked out. Nick doesn't even like melon, but he pinches a piece between his fingers and brings it to his mouth. Chews, chews, chews, and thank god because he almost chokes when Armie whispers in his ear, “I want to watch you stretch out his pretty hole, Niki. He has the nicest hole you’ll ever see, I fucking swear to god. And then, I want to slip my fingers against your cock and watch him just take it.” He kisses Nick’s cheek again. Doesn’t seem to care if anyone’s watching. “Then, I want to push my cock in with yours. I want to feel your cock against mine and I want to fuck him together and make him come and--shit, Nick, he’ll probably cry. You okay with that? I mean, it’s going to hurt, but he loves that. He fucking loves when it’s bordering on too much and he doesn’t even think he can take anymore. He fucking loves it. Do you want to see him--”

“Armie,” Nick hisses. Scoots his chair in so he can press his palm against his cock. “Fuck, Armie, stop.” 

There’s the scrape of the chair again and Armie fucking chirps, “So, you’re in then?” 

Nick nods, but it’s not enough for Armie, who grabs his chin and turns his face until they’re looking one another in the eye. “I’m in,” Nick says. 

And Armie smiles. Kisses Nick’s nose like he kissed Timmy’s chin and _fuck._ This is going to be a lot. 

But not too much. No, not too much. Just enough to get it out of their system. 

_____

Nick sits through two presentations before lunch. Goes back to the room because he’s tired and has a headache. And his dick aches because every time he tries to rest his eyes, he sees Armie’s cock, Timmy’s lips. Imagines Timmy stretched on Armie’s cock. Tries to figure out how their cocks will fit in there together because he’s not Armie, but he’s above average. Not huge, but not. Definitely not small. It’s not something he’s thought about because that seems douchy. 

He goes back to the room and is surprised to see Timmy sitting on the cot. Cross legged, staring at his phone. He looks up when Nick walks in. “Nick,” he says. Drops his phone to the cot and sits up a bit straighter. “Hey.” He smiles, but now Armie has him picturing Timmy crying and God damnit, Armie. He hates admitting it, hates wanting to know what he looks like with tears in his eyes and “Please, please, oh god, please,” on his tongue. 

“Oh, sorry. I just--”

“Don’t be sorry,” Timmy says. Stretches his legs out and leans back against the pillows. “How’s the conference?” 

He’s wearing jeans and a sweater that looks about two sizes too big for him. Maybe it’s Armie’s. That idea makes his tongue heavy. Nick wants to share clothes with someone. Wants to forget who owned those socks or those jeans or that watch.

“Boring,” Nick says.”I’m not into this like Armie.”

Timmy shrugs. “Then don’t do it. Don’t you like teaching?” He crosses his legs as Nick sits down on the cot.

“Yeah, I love teaching.” 

“You’re an amazing teacher,” Timmy notes. He reaches for Nick’s hand and takes it between both of his. Digs his thumbs into Nick’s palm and presses a hard line up to his middle finger. “If that’s what you love, then you should do it.” He rolls Nicks knuckles between his fingers and he feels his joints crack and loosen. Timmy’s fingers are quick and firm and Nick blushes as he wonders what else Timmy’s fingers might be good at. 

Timmy lets go of Nick’s hands and stands up. His face gets very serious and he points at Nick, “You should ditch.” 

Nick laughs and rolls his eyes. Looks up at Timmy who beams down at him. “What?”

“You should skip! We can go get lunch, go to the movies, or go to the mall--”

“Didn’t you go to the mall yesterday?” Nick asks. 

Timmy shoves his shoulder, then grabs Nick’s collar and tugs. “Come _on._ You don’t want to be at this stupid conference. I don’t want to die of boredom in a hotel room.” Nick pulls himself to his feet and laughs as Timmy claps his hands on his cheeks and whispers, “Nicholas Delli Santi, will you play hooky with me?” 

Nick rolls his eyes. Says, “Let me text Armie.” 

Before he can pull his phone out, Timmy leans up and kisses him. Soft but confident. Just lips, just Timmy being excited and cute. Nick isn’t sure how Armie survives everything that is _Timmy_ on a regular basis. Isn’t sure how he survives how light and airy his existence is.

Timmy pulls away and lets go of Nick’s face. Bounces on his heels. “I found this great Thai place yesterday.”

Nick grins. Leans down and kisses Timmy’s forehead.  
_____

Nick: _so don’t hate me but i’m playing hooky with timmy_  
Armie: _You’re doing what?_  
Nick: _ idk we’re getting lunch or something._  
Nick: _i’m not into this like you are_  
Armie: _Into what?_  
Nick: _i like teaching not telling people how to do their job._  
Armie: _Oh, fuck. Good. I was worried you were suddenly not into_  
Armie: _You know. Like you weren’t IN anymore. _   
Armie: _I mean, if you don’t want to anymore, that’s totally fine, too._  
Armie: _Seriously, youre kinda calling the shots here, Nick._  
Nick: _jesus christ stop being a weirdo i just don’t want to listen to a presentation on how to encourage teachers to be more involved over the summer._

They’re in the elevator and Timmy slaps the lobby button. “Nick, this Thai place is so fucking good, okay? Wait, do you even like Thai? Shit, I didn’t even ask. How do I not know if you like Thai?”

Nick laughs. He laughs because last night, he basically made out with Timmy while Armie fucked between their mouths and now, Timmy is apparently worried about Nick’s interest in Thai food. 

“I like Thai,” Nick assures him. 

Nick: _don’t worry your pretty little head_  
Nick: _i still want to fuck your boyfriend_

God, that sounds so weird. Nick presses his phone to his chest. When it vibrates, he jumps. 

Armie: _Good._

The elevator dings. Two floors from the lobby. Timmy seems to be reading something on his phone and Nick feels drunk with the exhilaration of skipping the rest of the conference. Of spending the day with Timmy, just like it’s the summer all over again. 

Bites his lip and pushes his phone into his back pocket. 

“What’s that smirk for,” Timmy asks, but he barely looks up from his phone.

Nick shakes his head. 

“Nick,” Timmy insists. Slips his phone into his front pocket and pushes away from the elevator wall. There’s a ding as they reach the next floor. Timmy steps in front of Nick. Slides his hands down his sides to rest on his hips. “What’s that smirk for?” Tilts his head up towards Nick. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Nick lies. 

Nick ignores the vibration from his back pocket. 

“You texting Armie?” Timmy asks. 

Nick shrugs a shoulder. Looks away. Huffs a laugh and says, “Yeah.”

Timmy leans up. Fuck, he’s probably on his tip toes and for whatever stupid reason, that makes Nick happy. “You two talking about me?”

Nick nods. “Yeah.” Licks his lips as Timmy goes in for another kiss that isn’t as sweet as the one they shared in the hotel room. Timmy’s mouth is insistent, but Nick turns his head, says, “I don’t think we should,” as Timmy opens his mouth against Nick’s neck. “Not without,” he whispers, pushing a hand on Timmy’s chest. Harder until Timmy reluctantly steps back, pretending to stumble on his toes, back to his heels. Rolls his eyes up at Nick. “Not without Armie.” 

Timmy touches his fingers to his lips and his face opens in a grin. He’s quick, moving back to Nick and leaning up to kiss his cheek before stepping back and pulling his own phone out. 

Grin widening as he texts. 

Nick asks, “You two talking about me?” 

And Timmy nods.  
_____

They sit across from one another and order food. Timmy sips his water and raises his eyebrows at Nick. 

“What?”

Timmy shrugs. Looks to the side and bites his lip. Lets it go and Nick rolls his eyes. There is no way--no fucking way--Timmy doesn’t know what he looks like. How he looks when he bites on his lip. 

“Stop,” Nick says. 

And Timmy scrunches his face together. Sincerely seems to question what Nick is asking but doesn’t seek an answer to that. Instead, leans forward and goes back to his original gameplan, apparently. 

“I was just thinking how we spent all summer hanging out and you _never_ mentioned anything that happened between you and Armie,” Timmy says before leaning over his plate and taking a bite. Chewing slowly and reaching for his napkin to wipe his mouth. Sits back and places his arm on the back of the booth. It looks like a challenge. He’s so much smaller than Nick, but right now, every angle is sharp with confidence. “Armie has already told me everything, you know that, right? 

Nick pushes noodles around his plate. “That was this fall,” Nick said. 

“Yeah, but I _knew_ already. I’m not stupid,” Timmy drums his fingers along the back of the booth. “Anyways, if you don’t want to be honest and tell me,” he singsongs and shrugs. Nudges Nick’s calf under the table as a quick, ‘I’m kidding, it’s fine, you don’t need to.’

Nick blushes and pushes his plate away. Folds his hands on the table. He needs a box. “I mean, you already know what happened, Timmy. Armie said he told you the truth and I trust him. Do you trust him?”

“Oh, I trust him,” Timmy says. “I’m just nosy.” Timmy smirks. God, he’s such a little brat. Nick loves it. 

“We were just fooling around,” Nick starts. “We were roommates and we got along really well. And then we just became roommate’s who got along _really_ well. I’d never been with a guy before--”

“Have you since?” Timmy asks. He pushes his plate away as well and leans back into the booth. Crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You’ve already forgotten last night?” Nick jokes, earning himself a swift tap to the shin. He shrugs. “No, not really. I mean, there have been dates, but nothing very serious.” 

Too loud for Nick’s comfort, Timmy bluntly asks, “Have you fucked a guy?” 

Nick blushes and leans in. In a low voice, says, “Just handjobs. One guy--” he looks around and then whispers, “One guy sucked my dick but that’s it.” That seems to satisfy Timmy, so he continues, cheeks on fire. “Anyways, so Armie was just, really nice. Not just in general, but when we,” Nick swallows. Wants to look away, but Timmy’s eyes soften so he just keeps looking at him. Wanting to burrow in that softness. “He never pushed me and you know how shit is in college. Everyone’s pretty selfish and they’re scared of looking stupid, but Armie never cared about that. Just wanted it to be fun. To feel good. And I guess eventually it felt like something more than, you know,” Nick laughs. 

“Bros being bros?” Timmy offers, and it sounds so much like Armie did back then. Trying to offer an explanation for what was happening between them. 

Nick nods and finally looks at the table. “We never fucked, if that’s what you want to know. But I wanted to, I was just too scared.” Looks up and finds the softness he needs when Timmy reaches across the table to touch Nick’s hands. Slide his own over his knuckles and let it rest. “But I don’t feel that way anymore, okay? I mean, I want to, you know, but I don’t feel like I want more than--” he rambles and Timmy tightens his grip. 

“I trust you, okay?” And then he’s sitting back as their waiter comes with boxes.   
____

They walk back slowly, each carrying a box of leftovers. Free hands brushing together with each stride until Timmy slips his into Nick’s and squeezes. “Thanks for telling me,” he says. 

“Did we pass?”

Timmy nods and nudges his forehead against Nick’s shoulder as they stop at an intersection. Pauses for a moment and then straightens as the light changes. “It wasn’t a test,” Timmy says, and he sounds different. Calm. Not a tight ball of energy like he’s been all day and Nick wonders if he’s been reading him wrong. If that energy he thought was excitement was really apprehension. 

They walk across the parking lot and Nick remembers Armie this morning. Being typical Armie, making sure Nick was fine with this, that everything was okay. But then the way he talked about Timmy. How he looked stretched on a cock, how he loved it when it was too much. How he would just take it. Just take it. And he hates to ask this, but he holds the door open for Timmy and waits until they’re in the elevator. Presses their floor and then asks, “Do you want this because Armie wants it, or…”

And Timmy doesn’t let go of his hand as he curls against Nick. Their takeout boxes awkwardly held to the side. He kisses Nick’s shoulder and says, “I want it so much, Niki. I used to be jealous of the way Armie looked at you, but then this summer? I started looking at you the same way because you’re fun. And you make me laugh and you _listen_. God, you actually listen.” He pauses. Seems to contemplate. The elevator dings. One more floor. Timmy pulls back and lets go of Nick’s hand. Faces the elevator door and shrugs, “It doesn’t help that you’re kinda cute, too.” 

That wasn’t what Nick was asking, and he blushes knowing he’s going to have to rephrase. 

The elevator dings and the doors open. He walks out ahead of Nick. Looks over his shoulder and winks. 

Nick sighs and walks after him. Has to jog a few steps to catch up to Timmy, who is already unlocking the door. 

Inside, Timmy flops down on the bed. Kicks his shoes off and sighs. “We should nap.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just unbuttons his pants and pushes them off. Crawls under the covers and makes room for Nick. 

“Ugh,” Nick says. “Do you think that’s a good--”

“I said nap, not fuck,” Timmy says, then presses his face into the pillows. Lifts his head up a bit and wiggles his eyebrows, “I could be persuaded into you showing me how you and Armie used to get off in college, though.” 

Nick’s fists are on his hips before he can stop himself and he’s about to just crawl onto the cot when he’s hit with a pillow. 

“I’m kidding. Get your pants off and come snuggle. Armie should be back in like two hours. That’s two solid hours of napping, Nick.” 

Two hours. Nick’s hands go to his fly. He tries not to think what that two hour countdown implies. He folds his pants and tosses them on the cot. Makes his way to the bed and slips underneath the covers with Timmy. Isn’t surprised, but is still pleased when Timmy slips an arm around his waist. Keeps a bit of distance between them, but trails his hand down to the hem of Nick’s shirt. Slips it up under the fabric and spreads his fingers along his abdomen. “You feel nice,” Timmy whispers. The hum of the air conditioner almost covers up his voice. “You feel so nice,” he says as he slips a bit closer. His voice sounds tired, almost like he’s drifting into sleep when he asks, “You’re going to be so nice to me, aren’t you, Niki?” 

And he needs to know. “Timmy, earlier, I meant,” he licks his lips and turns on his side. His fingers find Timmy’s cheek and he runs his thumb along his cheekbone. “I meant you actually want us to…”

Timmy turns on his side, his hand moving to Nick’s obliques. Shifting up to the side of his ribs, then down to his hip. “Armie doesn’t do anything I don’t want, Nick. If that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I wasn’t saying he--”

“In fact,” Timmy cuts him off, his voice raising to the offense, not quite mean but the voice of someone who isn’t going to let anyone question what they want. “I had to talk Armie into this, okay?” He rolls closer until his lips are almost against Nick’s and says, “I brought it up initially. Said I wanted to try. And he started searching for dildos online and I said, ‘Why use a toy when we can finally fuck Nick like we both want to?’”

Timmy rolls away abruptly. Tucks his arm under his pillow and Nick is worried he’s pissed him off.

“Now, get over here and spoon me. You’re cutting into nap time.”

_____

Nick wakes up and he’s cold everywhere but his cock and his feet. The blankets have been pushed down and his shirt rucked up to his armpits and he blinks his eyes open to see Timmy sprawled on his belly perpendicular to him, mouth working over Nick’s cock that he’s pulled through the hole in his boxers, leaving his balls trapped inside. Tight and full. “Timmy, Armie will--”

Timmy makes a garbled sound and uses his hand that is holding the base of Nick’s cock to gesture into the room. 

Nick panics and sits up, starts to move to push Timmy away when Armie’s voice rasps, “I’m right here, Nick.” And, fuck, he is. Sitting on the cot, pants and boxers pooled at his ankles. Legs spread, the meat of his thighs thick and tense. Leaning back on one hand while he strokes his cock slowly with the other. He’s pulled his shirt up a bit. Knowing Armie, it’s because he doesn’t want to get it dirty. He hates doing laundry. But the slight ripple of his belly, still muscular but not as tight as in college, makes Nick’s mouth water and he has a sudden urge to kiss Armie there. 

Not just his belly, but between his thighs, on his ankle. He wants to press his lips to the small of his back and then--

And fuck, then Timmy’s taking him in further and Nick falls back against the pillow. Closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the soft, lazy pull of Timmy’s mouth. He doesn’t use much suction and Nick wonders how long he’s been down there. How long they’ve been watching him. If he said anything in his sleep when Timmy’s tongue first touched him, or if he was silent. 

“Fuck, you two,” Armie hisses and Nick lets his head fall to the side. Opens his eyes to see Armie gripping the base of his cock. His free hand is clutching the sheets. He takes a deep breath, then says, “Touch him, Nick.” Starts to stroke himself again, fist loose. “He likes being touched. Talked to. Tell him how pretty he looks with your cock in his mouth.”

Nick nods and looks down at Timmy. Expects to see him straining to look at him out of the side of his eyes, but instead finds his focus is on Armie. Eyes wide and angled across the room. 

That won’t do. Nick reaches for Timmy’s hair. Smooths his fingers along his scalp and gives a gentle tug. Soft until he hears Timmy moan and watches his eyes slip closed and feels him give an ernest suck to the head of Nick’s cock. Keeping steady pressure as he glides down and then, fuck, fuck, fuck, tightening his tongue and mouth around Nick on the way back. The pressure is insane and Nick can’t help but give his hair a shocked yank, immediately letting go and beginning to apologize. Silenced when Timmy pulls off and whispers, “Yes, Niki,” and starts grinding his hips against the mattress. 

“I can’t hear you,” Armie taunts and Nick has half a mind to throw the clock radio at him. 

Instead, he puts his hand back in Timmy’s hair and guides him back to his cock. Doesn’t force him down, just sighs when Timmy teases his length easily, bobbing his head up and down slowly, letting his tongue flatten against the side of Nick’s cock. Again, and again, like he’s just warming up, just getting comfortable. More than that, Timmy’s sucking on Nick like he actually enjoys it, and Nick thinks about last night. How he’d just sucked Armie’s cock into his mouth without a thought. He hadn’t necessarily like it, but he didn’t hate it. He liked it a lot more when Timmy joined him, but Timmy, right now, looks so content to have a cock stretching his lips wide. 

Nick’s not like Armie, so he opens his mouth and says, “Yeah, like that,” and blushes at how dumb he sounds. Tries again, “You feel so good on,” he licks his lips and whispers, “sucking on my--”

Armie cuts in, says, “You look like you can barely take his fat cock in your mouth, Tim. You’re sure you’re going to be able to fuck him?” Nick looks over at him, gives a silent thanks and then looks back at Timmy, who apparently hears that as a challenge and takes almost all of Nick’s cock in his mouth, his lips bumping against his fist, throat starting to open around the head of Nick’s dick. “Gotta use your hand, too? Can’t even take him all,” Armie clicks his tongue. 

And then Timmy’s hand is gone and he’s swallowing--so fucking slowly. Delicately even--and Nick freezes, afraid to move as he slips into Timmy’s throat, feels his nose pressing his flesh. Wants to laugh as the hand that had been on Nick’s cock raises in a middle finger pointed at Armie. Wants to laugh, but is afraid to move because no one’s ever taken him this far before and he is going to come if he so much as thinks about moving. 

“That’s my Timmy,” Armie whispers, and then he’s kicking his pants off and quickly walking across the room. Keeping one hand on his cock and pressing the other on the back of Timmy’s head. Holding him down and Nick wants to protest because he can feel the shudder of Timmy’s throat around him, but he’s also feeling the mattress move as Timmy starts to hump it in ernest. He’s still in his boxers, but he’s spread his legs now so he can get more traction, each thrust causing a slight shift on Nick’s cock and Nick reaches down to push Armie’s hand away, but it’s too late and he’s coming down Timmy’s throat, heels digging into the bed and back involuntarily arching, shoving his cock further into Timmy’s mouth and how is that possible and how is he just taking it and how the fuck does Armie survive this on a regular basis? 

Armie lets go of Timmy and then reaches for Nick. Brushes his hair back and asks, “You okay?”

Nick nods, even though he feels like he can’t move. Like Timmy actually sucked every bit of energy out of him and swallowed it down. 

Timmy, who is slowly pulling off Nick’s cock, gently sucking him clean before swirling his tongue around the head once and sitting back. Gently tucking Nick’s cock back into his boxers. He looks up at Armie, mouth open and slick with spit, eyes wide. Waiting. A hand goes to his boxers and Timmy grips himself through the fabric. 

“You need more?” Armie asks. Bends down and presses a kiss to Nick’s forehead before walking to the end of the bed. “Take your boxers off,” he instructs and pulls the hem of his t-shirt up over his head. Locks it behind his neck while Timmy does as he’s told and lays back. Kicks his legs in the air and shimmies out of his boxers before flipping to his stomach and crawling to Armie’s cock. He starts to sit down but Armie says, “No, no, no,” and smooths a hand down Timmy’s back. Grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up so Nick can see the dimples of Timmy’s lower back, the curve of his spine. “Hands and knees, baby.” 

He looks back at Nick, who sits up. Has to lean back against the headboard because his body still feels limp and used. From here, there’s nowhere to look but the curve of Timmy’s spine and the swell of his ass. And, as much as Nick would like to see as Timmy stretches his mouth over Armie’s cock (wondering, briefly, if he can taste both of them, mixing together in his mouth), he can’t complain about the sight before him. Knows, really, he should probably not stare, but then Timmy is pressing forward and, fuck, spreading his legs even wider. For balance? To just show off? To make sure Nick has nowhere to look but where his balls are pulled up tight to his body, his cock heavy between his legs? Where the hair on his thighs fades to milky skin and an ass that--fuck.

Nick has never really had many thoughts about Timmy’s ass. That’s the truth. But he gets it now. He gets why Armie is always sliding his hand past Timmy’s back to cup his ass through his pants. Swatting at him as he walks by. He gets why, one night, they got way too drunk and the only thing Nick remembers is Armie admitting, “I want my face to take up permanent residence in Timmy’s ass. Fuck, it’s so cute.”

“You can come closer, Nick,” Armie whispers. His hand is in Timmy’s hair and there’s a slight sway to their bodies. Timmy’s body pulsing back and forth as Armie’s hips glide to meet him. The movements of two bodies who know what the other wants, how the other will give it. 

Nick nods, but he doesn’t know where to move. Should he lay next to them and watch? Should he join Timmy like last night? 

He sits up and moves to his knees. Shuffles forward and then makes eye contact with Armie who nods. Licks his lips and smiles before his lips open in a gasp and his head falls back. “Fu-u-ck, Timmy.” Nick expects Armie to look back at him, but he seems lost. After being in Timmy’s mouth, Nick understands. 

But he also feels free without any eyes on him. Free to look at the crease of Armie’s hips, the strain of Timmy’s neck. The crack of his ass. He feels free to reach between Timmy’s legs and trace a finger down the seam of his balls, the vein of his cock. 

Timmy breathes out through his nose heavily, and then, fuck, spreads his legs a fraction wider and--fuck--Nick’s eyes dart up but Armie’s head is still tossed back, so he looks back down and--

_Jesus Christ,_ Nick thinks, because Timmy does have the nicest hole he’s ever seen. He’s smooth and surprisingly hairless and Nick can’t decide if it’s better to think about Timmy prepping himself to look that way or just naturally being hairless, all the way from his hole to the start of his balls. He looks soft, inviting, and--_what the fuck am I even thinking_\--delicious and Nick doesn’t even check if anyone is watching him this time. Just braces a palm on Timmy’s left cheek (and his skin is so warm, so pliant) and dips down to press his tongue against Timmy’s hole. Just a quick swipe, a taste, a test, but it makes Timmy go rigid, makes his body press back and Armie’s cock fall from his lips and a sharp, “Oh fucking fuck,” spring from his lips. 

Nick sits back quickly, cutting off all contact with Timmy’s body and apologizes, “I’m sorry, Timmy, I--”

And he dares a look up at Armie, whose canines are flashing and his eyebrows are raised and he almost shouts, “I fucking told you, Nick!” like he won a bet. He leans over and grabs Timmy’s ass cheek, spreads him open and squeezes, then places a swift slap to his ass which makes Timmy gasp. “I told you he has the nicest looking hole.”

Timmy, who has managed to stay on all fours throughout all the commotion, asks, “You _talked_ about my hole?” with fake indignation. 

“Of course I did,” Armie says, proud. He stands up straight and holds the base of his cock. Slaps it against Timmy’s cheek and says, “Open up.” 

And Timmy does. Nick watches as he swallows Armie down. 

“He loves that, by the way,” Armie hisses, gesturing at Nick. “Loves having his ass licked. Bit, slapped, _Et cetera_. Loves to be played with, so,” he shrugs and that sure seems like permission. Sure seems like an invitation for Nick to lean forward, this time cautiously pressing a kiss to one ass cheek, then the other. Wrapping his fingers around Timmy’s cock and stroking him slowly before licking his hole. Slower this time, stopping to test how easy it would be to slip inside him. Finding resistance, but feeling the sway of Timmy’s body pressing back against him. 

Nick pulls back a bit and licks his lips. Stops to think--just briefly--about what he’s doing and back to that night Armie almost did this to him and how he’d felt like he wanted to fold in on himself and hide. Compares it to how Timmy spreads himself opens and basically begs for it. 

God, he wishes he was more like Timmy. Wishes he’d _been_ more like Timmy. No, no. Wishes he was more like Timmy, definitely. 

He continues to stroke his cock, following the sway of Timmy’s body and tightening this fist as the motions quicken. As Armie’s breaths become a staccato pant. Leans forward and presses a kiss to Timmy’s hole, then sucks softly, confidence growing when Timmy pulls off of Armie’s cock and starts jerking him off, whispers, “Niki, please, please,” sucks harder and jerks him quicker until Timmy’s pressing hard against Nick’s face, letting go of Armie’s cock to reach back and grip his hair, hold him in place. Cock twitching in Nick’s hand as he comes and comes and--

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m--fuck,” Timmy says, falling to the mattress like his muscles just gave out. 

Nick sits back. Speechless. Because he did that to Timmy, that he made him come with his tongue and his hand. 

“Fuck, Nick,” Timmy laughs and then rolls on his back. Dips his head over the edge and opens his mouth. And Nick is so distracted by the come on his bell and cock that he almost misses Armie slipping past Timmy’s lips. Almost misses him cupping Timmy’s cheek and thrusting shallowly into his mouth. Timmy’s cheeks hollowing and eyes closing as he hums, completely content and seeming to smile as Armie groans. Slumps over the bed and braces himself with his free hand. Comes in Timmy’s mouth, just the head of his cock in Timmy’s mouth now. Some of his come spilling from Timmy’s lips and rolling across his skin. 

He almost misses it, but he doesn’t, and Nick whispers, “Shit,” to himself because they look so god damn good together. Not just attractive (that’s a given), but comfortable and happy. Like Armie could call Timmy the filthiest names and Timmy could slap Armie’s face, spit on him, and then, once they catch their breath, Timmy might say, “Should we get coffee? I’d like coffee.” And Armie’s response would be, “A cinnamon roll would be nice.”

And as if on cue, Timmy sits up, Armie’s come still on his chin, and reaches for his boxers, using them to wipe his face, his belly, his cock. Looks at Nick and grins, “We should get dinner first.”

First, meaning before. Before they go any further. 

Nick’s starving. 

Armie groans, “Do you ever stop thinking about food? I’m taking a shower first. You two used up all the hot water last night.” 

And like that, it’s easy. Nick pulls the covers over himself and Timmy crawls to the head of the bed. Finds the remote and turns the television on to a sitcom Nick’s never seen. 

The shower turns on and Timmy doesn’t look away from the television. “You can go next. I’ll shower later,” he mutters. Reaches over and pats Nick’s leg through the covers. Says, “You still want to, right?” 

“Yeah,” Nick whispers. 

“We don’t have to, Nick,” Timmy reminds him. “We can do more of,” he laughs, “_that_. That was good enough. Or, we don’t have to do anything.”

Nick swallows and turns his head to Timmy. Says, “I want to fuck you,” and then reaches out and turns Timmy’s head to his. Kisses him softly before nestling down into his lap. Closing his eyes and murmuring, “Wake me up when he’s done.”


	4. Chapter 4

They spend the next hour arguing about food. “We just fucking ate Thai,” Timmy says. He’s dressed now, having stepped in the bathroom when Nick was showering to wipe off with a washcloth. 

“_I_ didn’t have Thai,” Armie reminds him. “You two were off eating Thai while I was working and--”

“You’re at a conference, Armie. You’re hardly working,” Nick rolls his eyes from the cot. The room is humid from showers and thick with want. Dinner feels like a formality. “Why don’t we just order pizza?”

Timmy makes a gagging sound and Armie snorts. 

“What’s wrong with pizza?” Nick asks. 

“We’re on vacation,” Armie and Timmy say simultaneously. 

Nick rolls his eyes. “I thought you were working, Armie.” 

“Well, I’m on vacation and I don’t want fucking pizza,” Timmy says. 

____

They decide on the hotel bar. A booth in the corner. Timmy slips in next to Nick and easily presses his hand to Nick’s knee. Slides it up to his thigh as they order drinks. 

Armie gets a burger and Nick orders a flatbread, staring at Timmy the entire time with a grin on his face. He doesn’t even want it, but it’s the principal of the matter, now. 

Timmy orders soup and a side salad and after the waitress leaves, Armie teases, “Dieting?”

“I ate _thai_,” Timmy says with a mocking drawl. “I’m full. Anyways, Nick’s letting me have a piece of his flatbread.”

“I am?” Nick asks, reaching for his beer. 

Timmy nods. Squeezes his thigh. “You are.”  
____

Later, Armie unlocks their door and Timmy says, “I’m showering,” before grabbing his bag and heading to the bathroom. Locking the door with a resounding click. 

Armie takes a seat in the chair by the window while Nick falls back on the bed. Kicks his shoes off and tucks an arm under his head. He looks at Armie and bites his lip. “So,” he starts. 

Armie nods and brings his thumb to his lip. Bites the skin along the edge. He looks nervous. Or stressed. Apprehensive. 

“Armie? You okay?”

Armie shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. Rubs his fingers through the front of his hair so it sticks up, then flattens it back down. “I--” he begins, then looks over at the bathroom. The shower’s on and Nick can hear Timmy humming--maybe singing--low. Apparently, it’s not loud enough for Armie, because he stands up and lays down next to Nick. Hesitates, then wraps an arm around his waist and tucks his chin against Nick’s shoulder. 

It feels familiar and Nick didn’t realize how much he’d missed being close to Armie like this. Not that they aren’t always close. They usually sit with their legs touching and hug more than most friends, but this is intimate. Feels like a decision.

“You what?” Nick prompts. 

“He just seems really, you know. Happy.” Armie’s voice is muffled in Nick’s shirt. “And I’m worried that, after this, I’m not going to be enough for him. Or, maybe I’m not enough for him already.” 

“Armie,” Nick says, shifting to his side so he can see his friend’s face. Armie’s eyes are closed, so Nick bring his hand to his cheek, lets his thumb trace Armie’s lower lip. This whole time, Timmy had been so careful about what Nick wanted, the same being oppositely true, and Nick never thought what Armie might think about his boyfriend asking to bring someone else into their bed. Even if it’s not _their_ bed, technically. Timmy even admitted he had to talk Armie into it. “I can tell Timmy I changed my mind.” 

Armie’s eyes open and he pulls Nick closer. Rubs his back. “No, I _want_ to, I just, like, I mean,” he stumbles, which isn’t like Armie. Armie, who can lead school assemblies on a moment’s notice, doesn’t fumble his words. “I never thought I’d find someone like Timmy and now I have him and he’s _mine_ but what if he realizes he could have more than me? You two are really close and--”

“Okay, I’m cutting you off there because you’re an idiot,” Nick says. Without thinking, kisses Armie quickly and then says, “Today, at lunch? Timmy was passively making sure I wasn’t trying to swoop in and steal his man,” Nick says, shimmying his shoulders to make Armie laugh. “I passed the test, by the way. And this summer? Half of our conversations were about you. Mainly Timmy trying to find out embarrassing stories. He is completely yours Armie, to the point where it would be sickening if I didn’t like you both so much.” 

This time, it’s Armie who kisses Nick. Letting his lips linger, but keeping it chaste. Maybe taking a moment to let it sink in, to think it over, to believe it. When he pulls back, Armie says, “Thank you,” his voice sincere and almost as gentle as his kiss. “I’m just nerved up I think.”

“Also, your dick is bigger than mine and he seems like a bit of a size queen, so--”

The bathroom door opens and Timmy steps out with a towel around his waist and wet, tousled hair. “I am _not_ a fucking size queen, you asshole. I just like big cocks, and you would too if you’d let anyone near your ass.” He walks over to the bed and pulls his towel off, brings it up to his head and roughly dries his hair. Nick can’t think of a single reason not to look, so he takes in every inch of Tim’s body. Can’t believe he gets to touch him, that he’s _already_ touched him. That he’s kissed him and licked him and, soon, (hopefully, probably) will be inside him. 

It’s starting to feel like a lot and Nick is so glad when Timmy drops the towel to the ground and moves to kneel at the foot of the bed. Says, “So,” but stares directly at Armie. “What are you two up to?” 

Armie shrugs. Nonchalantly admits, “I was just thinking about old times.”

“Oh?” Timmy asks, and Nick watches as he reaches out to slide his hand up Armie’s pant leg. 

Armie nods and focuses on Nick again. Confidence filling out his face as he grins. “I’m thinking about how shy Nick used to be.” He tosses a glance at Timmy and says, “For the record, he _never_ ate my ass, Timmy, so he must really like you.” 

Nick blushes. Closes his eyes. Doesn’t feel the need to assure Armie that he’s still Nick’s favorite because he has to know. He definitely has to know. “I didn’t eat hi--”

“But you want to, don’t you? Want to work him open with your tongue?” Leans in and kisses him again, this time pressing his tongue into Nick’s mouth and then rolling him on his back. Straddles his waist and presses his hands against his shoulders. “Tell me what you want,” he says, teasing. Leans down and presses his lips to Nick’s ear. Whispers, “Tell us, Nick.”

Nick keeps his eyes closed and turns his head into Armie’s lips. Grins when Armie kisses his neck, his cheek. 

He thinks about every time he and Armie made out, grinded against one another. How he wanted to go a step further, but was too scared. Thinks about the dates he went on--the few he went on with men--where he wanted to invite them home but spent the night worrying about where to put his hands so he didn’t ask them over. He thinks about the nights he’s touched himself thinking about sinking his cock into an ass (and maybe thought about what it would be like for someone to touch him. To open him up and spread him out and just take him, but now he feels like he’s waited too long, like it will always be awkward, like he had his chance to experiment and try things and he lost it.)

Thinks about every chance he never took and says, “Come here, Timmy,” and sits up. Gently pushes Armie to the side, pleasantly surprised by how gracefully Armie moves from Nick’s lap to his side. Pulls his shirt over his head and lets it fall off the side of the bed. How he instinctively reaches for Timmy’s damp hair as Timmy crawls (fucking _crawls_) into Nick’s lap. 

He pulls Timmy’s mouth to his and kisses him. Eyes closed, gentle. One hand on his chin and the other coming to rest just below Timmy’s hipbone, the harsh angle softened by smooth skin. Asks, “This what you want?” Swallows and darts a glance at Armie, who seems frozen on the edge of the bed. Hands on his thighs, lower lip tucked between his teeth. Waiting. Nick clears his throat and looks back at Timmy. “You want me to fuck your ass with my tongue? Want me to get your hole nice and wet and loose, so sloppy that--”

“Fuck,” Armie breathes and he’s slow, quiet, like he doesn’t want to disturb anything. Like if he so much as makes the mattress _dip_ something could break. 

“--that my fingers just slip in? Are you going to fuck yourself on my fingers Timmy?” he asks, even though he has no idea what he’s really doing, what he’s going to want to do. 

And Timmy nods quickly, excitedly, a wet curl falling into his face as he goes in for another kiss, letting his arms drape over Nick’s shoulders. Leaning into Nick and his cock presses against Nick’s belly and he’s _already_ so hard. Nick thinks about how Timmy was soft just minutes ago. How he stood before Armie and Nick, naked, unashamed. And now, he’s hard after a few kisses and some words. He’s hard because of Nick’s tongue and voice. 

He seems so in control. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick notices Armie stretching back against the pillows next to him. Pushing his pants off the bed and Nick wonders if he should feel weird being the only one dressed. If he should push Timmy away to undress, or if that would be weird. Or, maybe they don’t want him to? Maybe this is all just--

“Stop,” Timmy whispers against Nicks lips so low that Nick isn’t even sure if Armie can hear. Emphasizes his point by taking Nick’s hand from his chin and guiding it to his cock. Folding his hand over Nick’s and showing him how he wants to be touched right now. Soft and slow. Says, “See how hard you’ve made me, Niki?” 

Nick presses his fingers into Timmy’s hip, keeps the slow pace as he strokes his cock. “Yeah,” he says. Feels fingers on his back, slipping up under his shirt and looks over at Armie, who seems so fucking relaxed. Their conversation from earlier hardly a blip on the radar now. Hand idly stroking his own cock and Nick wants so badly for Armie to take charge, to tell him, ‘Get to it, Nick. Make him ride your tongue,’ or whatever easy instructions could fall out of his mouth. 

But Armie is silent. He rubs the small of Nick’s back and nods at him, gives a lazy grin. 

His cheeks burn as he turns back to Timmy, who smiles and lets go of Nick’s hand, leaving him to touch Timmy how he wants. Leans back, using Nick’s thighs for support as he opens himself to Nick’s eyes. As he opens himself for Nick and, fuck, this shouldn’t be this difficult. 

_____

Nick asked Armie out _one time_ and never again. It was October and whatever had started at the beginning of the semester had progressed to handjobs and, once, Armie pulled lube out from under his mattress and slicked Nick’s cock. Rolled onto his belly and whispering, “Just fuck between my thighs, Nick,” and it was weird as hell, but not in a bad way. Holding himself above Armie and watching his cock slip between Armie’s muscular thighs. Watching Armie pant underneath him, meeting Nick’s thrusts. Shoving a hand underneath himself to awkwardly jerk off, whispering, “You can come on me. I don’t mind,” which pushed Nick so far over the edge that he collapsed on Armie. Bit into his shoulder to hold back from shouting out. 

Afterwards, Armie was laughing and cleaning up the inside of his thighs with napkins leftover from pizza the night before and Nick quickly asked, “Want to try that Italian place a few blocks off campus? One of the girls in my lit class works there. Could probably sneak us beer.”

And Armie had shrugged. Face suddenly tight. Said, “I don’t know. Not in the mood to be your wingman tonight. Maybe next week,” before excusing himself to the bathroom to shower. 

Nick thought about trying again, but every time he opened his mouth to ask, everything seemed to stick in his throat. 

So, yeah. He asked him out the one time and neither of them ever brought it up again.  
_____

Armie’s hand is firm on Nick’s back. Warm. It doesn’t need to be difficult. 

He twists his hand over the head of Timmy’s cock and asks, “You’re so hard, Timmy. Is it because you’re thinking about my tongue or my cock? Are you just so excited to let us--”

He stutters, worries that this is too far, too much. Armie might talk to Timmy this way, but he’s Armie. He’s Timmy’s Armie and that’s different, that’s--

Timmy whimpers and rolls his hips up into Nick’s fist. 

“--let us use your pretty hole? I didn’t believe Armie when he told me, thought he was just trying to talk me into this, but an ass like that really needs to be shared, don’t you think, Armie?”

And, where the _fuck_ did that come from? Nick breathes out. 

Like he’s been absolutely dying to jump in, Armie says, “Wait until you fuck him, Nick. He’s so tight, you have to go slow at first. Like, painfully slow. But once he’s ready, Timmy makes the sweetest noises, don’t you, baby? You fucking melt when you have a cock in you, he does, Nick. And the filth that comes out of his mouth.” 

Nick stills his hand on Timmy’s cock. Reaches forward with his other hand to gently squeeze Timmy’s lips between his thumb and forefinger. “This mouth?” He asks, turning his head slightly towards Armie. “This pretty mouth?”

“That’s the one,” Armie laughs and sits forward, wraps his arms around Nick’s waist as Nick slips his thumb into Timmy’s mouth. Grins when Timmy immediately sucks on the digit, hollowing his cheeks and looking at Nick with wide, falsely innocent eyes. “You can’t imagine the dirty things he does with that mouth.” 

“Oh, I bet I can,” Nick whispers, tilting his head to the side as Armie noses at his neck. Gives him all the space he needs to kiss a line up to Nick’s ear. To suck softly on his earlobe.

Nick lets his thumb drop down to Timmy’s lip and presses it down until he can see his lower teeth. Watches it snap back up as he moves lower, cupping his hand around Timmy’s neck. “But, I’d bet you’d prefer to know how filthy my mouth can be, right Timmy?”

Timmy nods and Armie grins into Nick’s neck. Starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. Easily revealing his chest. Sliding the shirt off his shoulders and helping him slip his arms out. Dropping it off the side of the bed to join his clothes. 

It’s that simple. 

“Then lay down,” Nick says. “Lay down and spread your legs for me.”

And Timmy does. It’s really not that difficult, not difficult at all.

____

Nick smooths his hands along the backs of Timmy’s thighs, up until his fingers graze his asscheeks, then back down to his knees. Up, and down, up, and down, and Timmy groans at the pressure. Folds his arms on the mattress and rests his head to the side. His face is relaxed and Nick thinks he could do this all night. Pressing his fingers into his thighs, his calves. 

Armie is spread out next to Timmy. Head propped up on his side, cock curving up towards his belly, neglected as he massages a hand over Timmy’s shoulders. Every now and then stopping to toy with a few curls at the base of his neck. His hair is almost dry now and Nick realizes Timmy must spend more time on his hair than previously imagined because it’s out of control. Curls falling freeling over his arms, his face. He always looks a bit wild, but this is different. This looks like lazy Sunday morning hair. ‘I have no place to go, so who cares,’ hair. 

Nick can’t help it. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his curls, then slides a hand down the middle of his back. Brackets his waist with both hands, then leans down to kiss his back. The movement forcing his cock--

(and it had been so easy, so simple to take his pants off once Timmy rolled away. Spread himself for Nick and looked back at him like a challenge, a promise.)

\--to nudge against Timmy’s ass. He ignores the smooth sensation and kisses the base of his tailbone before settling on his stomach, cupping Timmy’s ass with his palms. Trailing soft kisses down his crack as far as he can before backtracking with his tongue. Grinning when Armie murmurs, “Such a tease, isn’t he, Timmy?” 

“I don’t mind,” Timmy responds, like he’s used to being worshipped and loves every second of it. Like he deserves every second of it. The thought makes Nick want to kiss Armie. Kiss Armie for treating Timmy so well, for making sure he stays confident. 

Nick squeezes his ass. Presses his thumbs between his cheeks and spreads Timmy slowly. Blows a thin line against his hole; watches as his tight pucker quivers at the sensation. Feels his thighs tighten around where they’re spread around Nick’s shoulders. “Fuck,” Timmy whispers. “Nick,” he warns, breathes. 

“You don’t like that?” Nick asks. 

Timmy suddenly doesn’t look so relaxed anymore. He shakes his head. “No, I.” Shifts a bit. “I want you to lick me.” 

“Maybe you should hold yourself open for him, then,” Armie offers. 

And Timmy does. Unfolds his arms and reaches back to spread his ass for Nick. “Like that, Niki?” Timmy says and he sounds like a little shit, so Nick blows against his hole again. “Fuck, fuck,” Timmy hisses. “Sorry, I’m sorry Nick. Do whatever you--” and Nick quickly ducks down to press the tip of his tongue to Timmy’s hole. To roll it in a soft circle clockwise, clockwise. Counter. “-f-u-uck off,” Timmy pants. “Niki, I need--”

And Nick places an open mouthed kiss to his hole, sliding his tongue roughly against his flesh and tasting soap and skin and wishing he’d let Armie do this to him. Wishes he hadn’t been so worried because if Armie wanted to do this as much as Nick does now, it was a shame he didn’t let him. Cruel, even. 

“Yeah, like that,” Timmy whispers, so Nick keeps going. Not caring about how sloppy he gets, how much spit rolls down Timmy’s crack, slicks his balls. Coats Nick’s chin. He loses himself in the way Timmy’s words eventually melt to quiet cries of pleasure, every now and then able to gasp a name. Loses himself in tasting every inch of Timmy until he doesn’t think there is anything left to explore. 

Is proven wrong when he presses against his hole again to find Timmy relaxed enough for the tip of his tongue to slip inside. Proven wrong again, when Timmy bucks back against him, pushing his tongue in further, and crying out so loud that Armie sits up and shushes him. 

Nick sits back and notices Armie staring at him. “What?” Wipes his mouth on his shoulder. Swallows and all he can taste is Timmy. Momentarily worries that Armie’s fears from earlier are resurfacing. That Nick has been too enthusiastic, too eager. That this shouldn’t be so easy that--

“You’re going to be so good to him, aren’t you?” Armie asks, seemingly surprised. A happy surprise like he wasn’t sure this was all going to work, like all the pieces are falling into place and he loves the big picture. “Going to make him feel so good.”

Nick nods and reaches out for Armie. Keeps a hand on Timmy’s thigh while he fucks his tongue into Armie’s mouth; feels almost as drunk as he was the first few times they made out in their dorm.   
____

Nick doesn’t remember when they stopped having to be drunk when they made out. When it ceased to be their Thursday night routine to go to a party and end up in one of their beds, barely remembering what they did in the morning. When it became normal for them to watch a movie and lose interest halfway through because the other’s mouth was more thrilling. 

He also doesn’t remember when they stopped having to make out in order to feel close. When they started sleeping in the same bed just because or scratching the other’s back when they walked behind them in the hall. He doesn’t remember when everything became so easy that it felt--

Fuck, Nick doesn’t like to think about it. Doesn’t like to think about how it felt like they were more than friends the whole time. 

Because they weren’t.   
_____

Nick reluctantly pulls away from Armie, to duck back between Timmy’s legs. “You love his ass, don’t you,” Armie whispers. 

And he does. He licks up and down, almost more thrilled by the feeling of the back of his tongue against Timmy’s ass than the front. Sucks sweetly on him, then presses his tongue harshly and is somehow still shocked when Timmy gives away yet again and the tight muscle swallows his tongue for a moment. Dips back and it feels like delicious suction and need and Nick dips in and out, in and out. Slips back to kiss the creases between Timmy’s ass and thigh. 

Laughs when Timmy breaths, “Fucking shit Nick, fuck me with your tongue.”

Dares a request. “Ask nicely, then.”

Armie barks a laugh and massages the back of Nick’s neck. 

Timmy groans, frustrated, then pleads, “Please fuck me with your tongue, Niki.”

So, Nick does. Presses the tip of his tongue inside and out, in and out. In. Tries to twist it, but Timmy is so fucking tight and he has no idea how they are going to fuck him, but he wants to, he needs to. He needs to be inside of Timmy, needs to fuck him him open and make him cry because he wants it, too. 

Fuck. 

He didn’t think he wanted that, but now, with Timmy’s hole opening to Nick. Thinks about how Armie said Timmy likes that and the thought haunted him. Likes to be spread and pushed until he can’t take it anymore. Until he has to--

“Stop, stop, stop,” Timmy rushes, pulling away from Nick’s mouth and rolling onto his back. Reaching for his cock (almost purple with need, the head slick with precum and Nick has the strangest desire to take him in his mouth and lick him clean, but he’s pretty sure Timmy would not last, not a single minute more) and squeezing hard at the base, clenching his eyes shut. Stomach fluttering with each shaky breath. “Fuck, I almost,” he eshales, chest heaving. “Fuck.”  
_____

Armie didn’t ask Timmy out right away. In fact, he waited until almost November to ask him out, and it wasn’t even a date. Told Nick, “He’s really into clothes and I need new jeans, so I asked him to go shopping with me. That doesn’t sound desperate, does it?” 

“No,” Nick said. They were in line at Subway, trying not to make eye contact with students who had also gone there for lunch. “It sounds like a totally casual hang between two dudes who are going to spend the day literally checking out one another’s asses.”

Armie elbowed him. “You don’t think he’s too young, do you?”

Nick hadn’t thought about that before. He knew Timmy was young. Just out of college, really. But he was witty and made Armie laugh. Their classrooms were right across the hall from one another and, between classes, Nick would often look down from his corner classroom to see Nick and Timmy talking above the heads of students. Both using their hands too much and smiling way too big. Laughing. 

At first, it made Nick jealous. He used to be the one that made Armie laugh like that. Sometimes, he’d thought about walking down and joining in. Making sure Timmy knew that Armie was his best friend. That they were Armie and Nick and they didn’t have room for someone else. 

But then, Timmy had come down one day after school and asked to borrow Nick’s projector. Said his wasn’t working and he needed it the next day. “I’ll bring it back at the end of the day, I promise.” 

Nick had told him no worries, even though he _hated_ when people borrowed his shit. Barely looked up from his gradebook, but then Timmy stopped halfway to the door, the wheels on the projector coming to a creaking halt. And he’d asked in a flurry of words, “So, this is totally not something I should be asking but I’m afraid I’m reading things wrong and I know you’re his best friend so I thought I’d ask you if Armie is, like,” he scratched the back of his head. “If he likes men. And, like, if he’s seeing anyone. Or if there’s something else I should know.”

Nick had finally looked up. Tapped his pencil on his desk and thought about how he hadn’t even had the balls to tell Armie he liked him. They’d lived together for four years and not once had he said, “Hey, I like you as more than a friend, I think. I’m not sure as what, but more than a friend.” 

“Yes,” Nick said because Timmy had asked. Because Timmy knew to ask Nick. Because the leaves hadn’t finished falling off the trees and Timmy already knew what he wanted. 

(And Nick didn’t want to, but he immediately felt like Timmy was asking for his blessing and who the fuck was he to give that? But at the same time, it was nice. It was sweet.) 

“And, no,” Nick continued. “There’s no one else.”

Timmy didn’t seem too young. And he seemed like the perfect person to ask to go jean shopping, which was the most absurdly domestic thing they could do aside from picking out appliances. “I think he’s great,” Nick answered. And it didn’t feel like giving up, it felt like letting go.

_____

Nick is so mesmerized by the way Timmy is opening and closing his eyes, forcing his breaths to calm down, that he hardly notices when Armie rolls off the bed. Pads across the room to his bag and then comes back with a bottle of lube in his hand. Doesn’t waste any time; asks, “You ready?” 

There’s a beat, and then Timmy swallows and nods. “How do you want me?” 

_Every way,_ Nick thinks, but Armie says, “You’re perfect just like this. Bring your legs up.”

Nick moves to the side and lets Armie slip between Timmy’s legs, happy that Armie doesn’t even give him the option to finger Timmy, even though he’d blurt it out earlier. Asked Timmy if he was going to fuck himself on his fingers and, no lie, the thought terrifies him. Not just the lack of experience and wanting it to feel good for Timmy, but the idea of doing it wrong. Of not doing enough, not prepping Timmy and fucking up this whole thing and--

Oh, God. Timmy hooks his hands under his knees and pulls them back to his chest and Nick clearly has no option but to steady a hand on the back of his thigh. 

“Fuck,” Armie says while he pops the cap on the lube. “Look how fucking wet you are, Timmy. Could probably just fuck you right now, couldn’t we? Would you like that? My cock working you open, just Nick’s spit to slick the way?” He tips the lube over Timmy spread cheeks, clearly not caring about making a mess (_As if this isn’t messy enough,_ Nick thinks. Shoves the thought away) as he lets it dribble over Timmy’s hole, his crack. Probably using more than he needs right now, but then he snaps the lube shut, tosses it to the side, and whistles quietly. “Look at that, Nick,” he says. Slides his hand through the lube and smooths it over his hole, his balls. Rolls them between his fingers which pulls a sigh from Timmy’s lips. 

Then, he’s sinking a thick finger inside him, first just the tip, then pulling it back. Timmy’s hole clenches and Armie presses back in, his entire finger slipping inside Timmy, forcing his toes to curl and the muscles in his thigh tighten under Nick’s hand. “Look at that,” Armie whispers like it’s the first time he’s seen Timmy like this. “So good, Timmy.” His finger moves in an out and Nick wants to look away, wants to look at Timmy’s face, but Armie’s finger is so thick and Timmy seems impossibly tight. 

It’s probably best that he can’t see his face, because Armie adds a second fingers and Timmy all but mewls, rocking his hips to meet him, and Armie twists his fingers. Uses his other hand to grab Timmy’s ass and squeeze the flesh. Asks, “Who do you want to fuck you first, Timmy?”

Breathless, Timmy says, “Niki, I want Niki,” without a thought like this had already been discussed. “I want Niki first, and then I want you both and,” _something_ happens because Timmy whole body jerks and he rushes, “And fuck I can’t believe this is happening, fuck, Niki, can you--”

“Anything,” Niki whispers, and he finally looks a Timmy’s face. Pries his eyes from Armie is pulling on his hole to look Timmy in the eyes, even though his lashes keep fluttering open and closed. 

Timmy smiles and asks, “Can you kiss me?” 

So, Nick lays down next to him, presses his cock into Timmy’s side and leans in. The angle is awful, but it must be worse for Timmy who kisses him lazily for a while before whispering, “Armie, I need to,” and lowers his legs. Keeps his knees bent and it doesn’t seem to deter Armie at all, who is so focused on Timmy’s ass. In fact, he seems more content than before, taking his free hand and rubbing it through the lube on Timmy’s ass, then bringing his hand to his cock. Stroking him with each thrust and, every now and then, bending down to kiss the head of his cock. 

And it’s so gentle and sweet and _different_ than the way Armie sometimes talks to Timmy and about him. The way he doesn’t hesitate to taunt Timmy and use his body, to take and take and take. 

Nick wonders if he could give as much as Timmy. If he could open when he’s asked to and bend when told. If he could give himself over to Armie like that--even just in bed, even if just for a bit. 

In college, Armie had been filthy, but he never pushed Nick. He might nudge him, ask for more, but he never took, never pleaded. It wasn’t the same as what Armie and Timmy have. 

Things are different. 

Nick watches as Armie leans down again, this time slipping his lips around the head of Timmy’s cock and sucking him gently, his fingers still thrusting in and out, and Timmy seems completely at ease, even though he is just about as vulnerable as he can get. 

No, Nick wouldn’t be able to do this, not more than the weekend. But right now?

Right now, Nick bites at Timmy’s jaw and asks, “His fingers feel good in your ass, Timmy? I bet they will feel even better when they’re tight against my cock, stretching you so wide.”

“Oh fuck,” Timmy says, and seeks out his lips. Wraps a hand around Armie’s wrist and assures them, “I’m ready, I’m ready.”

Nick kisses his nose and says, “Then get on your hands and knees for me, Timmy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did anyone actually expect me to stick to my plan and not edit this like a madwoman last night? apologies, dp is postponed. enjoy another chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the tags. The next chapter is the last, I promise!

Armie wasn’t kidding; Timmy is tight as hell.

(And he wasn’t lying about going painfully slow, either. Once the head of Nick’s cock slipped past the initial ring of muscle--which, just on its own was too much, everything--Timmy had reached back to dig his fingers into Nick’s hip. Whispered, “Stop, stop, fuck. Give me a second,” entire body going rigid for a minute, two minutes, an hour; Nick wasn’t sure because all he could feel was the tight heat of Timmy’s body and it felt like pressure everywhere.

Eventually, Timmy’s fingers had loosened on Nick’s thigh and he started rocking his body back and forth, taking an inch, two inches. Three, four, and, “That’s it, baby,” Armie said. Rolling on his back next to the pair, head tilted underneath Timmy’s so he could reach up and stroke his jaw. “Take it slow, take that big cock nice and slow so you can feel it stretch your tight little hole. Get nice and loose for Niki so he can fuck you as hard as he wants, as hard as you want it, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Nick found it hard to go slow. Hard to just watch his cock sink in and out of Timmy’s body. Harder still to show any sort of restraint when the backs of Timmy’s thighs finally met his own and he nodded, head hanging low and curls falling in front of his face. When he finally looked back and said, “Fuck, your cock feels so good, Niki. Knew when I had you in my mouth, when you fucked up into my throat that I was going to love you in my ass, god damn,” he groaned, grinding against Nick. “You going to fuck me now? Going to use my ass like you want?”

And Armie had reached up to pat Timmy’s cheek. Raised up on his elbow and kissed his jaw. “There you are,” he whispered before bringing himself to his knees, turning to Nick and grinning. Reaching a hand out to make a “V” with his index and middle fingers, sliding his fingers over Nick’s shaft. Grazing the pads of his fingers against Timmy’s stretched rim and saying, “Yeah, Niki, don’t keep him waiting.”)

Each thrust is intense and, quickly Nick realizes it’s a mistake to look anywhere but the space between Timmy’s shoulder blades, and even that is questionable, because his lithe muscles keep flexing with every thrust. But watching his cock slip into Timmy’s body is too much to couple with _actually_ fucking into him (and maybe, possibly, he thinks he’s being too rough. His hips snapping with a resounding slap against Timmy’s body. But, Timmy doesn’t seem to mind if his moans are any indication and Armie is just a litany of encouragement.)

Looking up at his face is out of the question because every now and then, without warning, Timmy will look over his shoulder with lidded eyes and a wet pout and Nick remembers his cock between those lips, Armie slapping his cheek with his dick and demanding, “Open up.” 

Thinks about how Timmy smiled when Nick walked into the room this afternoon. 

(And _how_ was that just this afternoon?)

So, no, he doesn’t dare look anywhere but Timmy’s spine. 

_____

Armie and Timmy started dating so gradually that Nick hardly noticed. “I want to take things slow,” Armie had shrugged. “I like him.” 

Nick tried not to think about how everything between them had been fast, quick, hurried since the beginning. Thinks about how, even during move in day, things between them seemed to go from zero to ten immediately. A handshake that Armie turned into a bro-hug that lasted much too long. Nick had brushed it off as Armie being nervous. Eager to make friends in a new place. 

But that’s how _everything_ was with them, even when they were awkwardly getting to know one another. At night, when they were falling asleep, Armie would ask Nick questions. “Do you have a girlfriend? Not anymore? Why’d you break up? Are you looking for a girlfriend? Or, you know, a boyfriend. That’s cool, too.” 

By that first Wednesday, Armie was coming back from class and sitting on Nick’s bed instead of his own. Knocking on the bathroom door when Nick showered and asking, “Hey, can I brush my teeth?” like people who had no boundaries. 

And Nick always thought that’s just how Armie was, how he existed. How he made friends so quickly. 

But then Timmy happened and he was going jeans shopping (“You don’t like them?” Armie had asked, giving a spin in Nick’s living room. “Timmy said my other jeans were the wrong fit.”

“I’m just saying your ass thighs look like they could split the seams,” Nick had joked, reaching forward to pinch at the thick muscle) and Armie was helping Timmy organize his classroom storage closet. Armie was going over to Timmy’s to help him install a new garbage disposal, asking Timmy (and Nick, of course, “You should come with!” but Nick felt weird, even if he wasn’t technically a third wheel, not yet) to check out this taco truck downtown, and _calling_ one another on a regular basis. Not texting, actually sitting around and talking on the phone. Except Armie rarely sat when he talked to Timmy. He’d wander around his house (or Nick’s apartment) and pick up random objects, graze his hand over walls. Walk from room to room, listening, asking questions, like his entire body was involved in the God damn phone conversation. 

It was weeks of that and Nick finally asked one day, “So, have you fucked him yet,” while they were at a brewery near his apartment. 

And Armie had blushed (_Armie_ had _blushed_) and hid his mouth behind the lip of his beer. Said, “No, we, ugh. I haven’t even kissed him yet,” and Nick’s leg had bounced under the table. “We almost did last weekend--I was helping him with his new bed--but then his roommate walked in so.” 

“So,” Nick nodded. Swallowed down his thoughts and joked, “You were helping him with his bed? What, showing him how it works?”

“Shut up,” Armie had said, but on Monday morning, he didn’t even take his coat off or set his bag down. Just went to Nick’s room and closed the door. Pressed his back against it and whispered, “Timmy just kissed me in the parking lot.” 

Which seemed like an awful first place for a kiss, but Nick guessed it was better than a fucking house party. 

*****

Armie bends. Presses his lips to the small of Timmy’s back, hands coming to rest on top of Nick’s that are gripped tightly on Timmy’s thin hips. Nick’s movements slow to long strokes in and out of Timmy, distracted by the gentle way Armie places small pecks down Timmy’s back, to his tailbone. Strains to look up at Nick, and the want in his eyes makes Nick freeze for a moment, cock buried in Timmy’s ass and--

“Fuck, Armie, you’re fucking nasty, god you look so good,” Nick groans as a grin plays on Armie’s lips and he swipes his tongue over Timmy’s stretched hole, catching Nick’s cock along the way. Nick fucks into Timmy slowly, testing the waters, and Armie doesn’t seem to have any intention of backing away. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Timmy whimpers, dropping down onto his elbows and letting his head fall between his biceps. “Fuck, Armie you’re such a slut for it. Want his cock so bad, don’t you?”

This only seems to encourage Armie who, as Nick slowly pulls back again, licks at his cock as it’s exposed and, “You’d suck my cock right now wouldn’t you? Want to taste Timmy on me?” 

Armie traces Nick’s cock back to Timmy’s hole. Kisses the flesh and rolls his cheek to the side against Timmy’s ass. “I’d do anything you ask me to, Niki,” he says and the words make Nick’s cheeks hot, his stomach ache. His firm, teasing commands and steady actions seeming to melt away as he parts his lips and lets his tongue rest against his lower lip. Letting Nick decide, letting Nick push his limits. 

(Honestly, Nick isn’t sure Armie has many limits in sex or life.)

Nick swallows. Knows, rationally, that Timmy went into the bathroom with a bag and came out naked. Knows he wasn’t just showering and this is fine and Armie wouldn’t even offer this if he didn’t trust Timmy (even under the guise of trusting Nick), but the mere idea makes the ache in his stomach disappear then return as a dull heat that spreads through his body. 

So, he pulls out (and Timmy’s sighs, groans. Reaches back to hold himself open. Slips two fingers into his stretched hole and Nick literally could not take more than this weekend. It’s too much, too hot. So much that it doesn’t seem real, seems like a dream, a fantasy.) and clumsily guides his cock into Armie’s mouth, his lips instantly sucking him in, tongue hungry on the head and _God_ he’d forgotten just how greedy Armie was. How greedy he is because, “You could probably come just from sucking me, huh? Tasting Timmy on your tongue and throat and being used like the cockslut your really are? Did you tell Timmy how you used to beg to suck my cock in college?”

“Jesus Christ, I thought Armie said you were shy,” Timmy gasps, and Nick blushes because he can hardly believe the words spilling out of his mouth but everything feels like such a departure from reality. 

He definitely can’t believe the way Armie’s sucking his cock into his mouth until he’s bumping against his throat and--

“You’ve gotten a lot better though, Armie. Used to gag on my cock because you were so eager. Choke yourself trying to take it all.”

\--Armie pulls off Nick’s cock and sits back. Guides him back to Timmy’s ass, nudges against his hole and Timmy’s fingers, still buried to the knuckle. Asks, “Timmy?” before letting go of Nick’s cock and reaching for the lube. Generously spilling it over Nick’s cock, Timmy’s fingers.

“Yes,” Timmy gasps, body going completely still as Armie drops the lube back to the bed and then nods at Nick. 

“Slow,” Armie warns, and his voice is tight. Hand coming to rest on the top of Timmy’s ass as Nick pushes in beside Timmy’s fingers. 

*****

Nick tried to give them space. When they officially started dating, Nick began declining invitations to the bar. Telling them he had plans during the weekend and lied that he was swamped with grading. He was happy for them, enjoyed Timmy (much more than he thought he would, much more than he wanted to), loved Armie. But things were new and he didn’t want to be the elephant in the room. Didn’t want to make Armie think about choosing. 

(Because he’d already chosen, right? Even before Timmy, they both had made a decision, silent as it was, to not push things any further. To keep things safe and friendly because, at the end of the day, Nick could live without Armie in his bed, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Armie looking at him like someone he regretted. Couldn’t stand to become strangers.)

But then, Nick had been making copies and Timmy came into the copy room to grab some fresh dry erase markers and asked, “Do you not like me?” 

Nick grabbed his copies, the paper warm in his palms. Lifted the glass and pulled off the original. “What?”

Timmy walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame. School was out and the halls were relatively quiet. “Do you not like me?” He’d asked, not bothering to even rephrase the question. 

“Of course I like you,” Nick laughed. Scratched his ear. “You make Armie happy and--”

“No, I didn’t ask if you like that I make Armie happy,” Timmy pushed. Rolled the markers between his hands. “Do you not like me?” 

“I like you,” Nick swallowed. 

Timmy shrugged. “Then why don’t you want to hang out? Armie says you’re always busy, but that seems like bullshit when you were always able to hang out with him before I was around.” It looked like this was all hard for Timmy to say. “Like, if there’s something I’ve done to--”

“You haven’t done anything,” Nick insisted. “I just thought, you know. With the relationship being so new and whatever. You’d want to be alone more.” 

They started walking down the hall to their classrooms and Timmy said, “Well, I’d really like if we could be friends, too.” Stopped outside Nick’s room and seemed to waiver on an invisible ledge. Finally blurted out, “I really like him, Nick.” 

That night, they all went out for drinks and Armie looked happy. So fucking happy when Timmy sat next to him and, somehow, even happier when Timmy and Nick took turns teasing him about his awful collection of cardigans.  
_____

It didn’t feel much different, Nick thought, his cock slipping next to Timmy’s fingers. There was so much lube that everything just felt like wet heat and, really, the only indication that anything was different was Timmy breathing out a low, “Oh shit.” 

It didn’t feel much different, but the sight was impossible to look away from, something Armie, of course, had to comment on. “Timmy, baby, you look so nice. Stretching yourself for us and doing it so sweetly, you’re just taking Niki’s cock and your fingers so well, so perfectly. Niki tell Timmy how he looks, tell him, Niki,” Armie said. 

There are a lot of things that Nick wants to say. Most of them are not what Timmy needs to hear because, if Armie’s words are any indication, it is not the time for ‘You look like you were made to be split open and fucked until you’re sobbing into the mattress.’ 

Nick settles his hips against Timmy’s thighs and says, “You look so good, Timmy. How do you feel?” 

“M’fine,” he says. Adds, “Armie my arm kinda--” he grunts as he slides his fingers out. “Can you?”

Armie hums and reaches for the lube. Slicks up a few fingers and Nick stays still, so fucking still. 

“I’m just going to start with one, okay?” He presses a digit against Timmy’s rim and starts to press in. The sensation of his finger sliding against Nick’s cock is strange, but welcome. Makes it easier to stay buried in Timmy without moving. Relieves some of the pressure and, fuck, this is really happening. “That okay?”

Timmy nods. “Feels good,” he whispers. “You can add another, Armie.”

Armie doesn’t. He slides his finger in and out and demands more than he asks, “You’ll tell me if you need to stop, right Timmy?” Presses a second finger in alongside the first. When Timmy doesn’t answer, he gives his ass a firm squeeze with his free hand. “Timmy, you need to promise me you’ll tell us if you need to stop.”

Nick runs a hand up Timmy’s side and adds, “Even if you just need a break, Timmy. You’ve already done so well.” 

Timmy nods again and Armie fucks his fingers in and out. Spreads them into a “V” that opens around Nick’s cock and makes his stomach flutter, his muscles clench and Nick reaches for his wrist. Gives Armie a warning look. Armie cocks an eyebrow and does it again, then grins. 

“Timmy, I need to hear you say you’ll tell me to stop if you need to. Or even if you just want to,” Armie urges. “This is about you, okay? And, Niki’s right. You’re already doing so well, you’ve already done enough and--”

“Yes, yes, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you,” Timmy rushes, voice tight with concentration. 

“Okay,” Armie says and then starts fingering him again. Slowly until, apparently, he feels loose enough and he speeds up, which Timmy seems to like. His hips swaying gently back against each thrust of Armie’s fingers. 

“You okay?” Armie asks Nick, and he knows Armie’s asking if everything feels okay, but he knows Armie, knows he’s worried about Nick. 

“I’m fine,” Nick says. 

“How does it feel?” Armie asks, a spark of genuine curiosity in his voice. 

Nick grins and reaches out to rub his finger along Armie’s knuckles. “He feels perfect.”  
_____

Armie asked Nick before he asked Timmy. “Do you think Timmy should move in with me?”

They were sitting in the teacher’s lounge. Nick looked up from his pudding (“Seriously?” Armie had asked as he dropped his sandwich on the table. “You’re eating tapioca pudding for lunch? Have some dignity.” 

“I like it,” Nick said, licking the spoon clean.) and then back down. 

Up. 

“What?” Armie asked, a smile toying on his lips. 

Nick shrugged. “I mean, I think.” And then he’d stopped because what did he think? Did he think he should say no because, at some point, he and Armie knew the exact pace the other liked to jerk off? That they knew the exact spots to kiss to get the other worked up? 

“You think.”

Nick rolled his eyes. Put his spoon on the table and sat back. Stretched his arms over his head. “I think I’m not the person you should be asking.”

“Course you are,” Armie said. He took a bite of his sandwich. “I mean, if you don’t want me to ask him to move in, I won’t.”

He looked up and, for a moment, it meant something. Then he swallowed and looked away. 

Nick realized Armie was giving him a chance. Literally putting the choice at his feet and, maybe not saying ‘Take it or leave it,’ but perhaps meaning it. 

For a moment, Nick thought about saying, ‘It’s really soon, don’t you think?’ but he remembers Timmy coming to Nick for advice about meeting Armie’s mom. Armie sending Nick dozens of links to quirky socks, trying to find a birthday present for Timmy that was casual but still personal. Remembers going over to Armie’s house and watching them pad around the kitchen together in their socks, easily keeping out of one another’s way as they cooked, but still trailing fingers along one another’s skin whenever they had a chance. 

“I think you should ask him to move in with you,” Nick said. 

_____

Armie works his way up to three fingers and his pinky, says, “You look like, fuck. _Fuck_, Timmy, you look so pretty like this,” and then leaned forward and kissed his ass cheek. Reached up to kiss Nick’s cheek. “You’re being so good, too, Niki. I knew you--”

And they lock eyes and Nick rubs his thumb over Timmy’s hip. Swallows. 

“I knew you’d be good to him,” Armie says, and Nick is not used to Armie being so quiet. Not used to a voice that is barely above a whisper, a voice that not only trusts Nick, but trusts him with the things he loves.  
_____

Armie had to work Saturday detention when Timmy moved in, so Nick helped. Carried his boxes to a moving van, then followed behind him as they made their way to Armie’s house. Helped him stack boxes inside Armie’s entryway until the moving van was empty and Timmy was standing in his bare feet in the foyer. “I guess that’s it,” Timmy said. “I really--”

“I can help you unpack,” Nick offered. Didn’t wait for Timmy to answer. Just yanked open the closest box and pulled out a stack of joggers. Held them up and cocked his head at Timmy. “Really? An entire box of sweatpants?”

And Timmy had laughed and knocked his head against Nick’s shoulder. Said, “I like them.”

____

Nick feels like he’s been left out of a very important conversation, because Timmy says, “Yeah, yeah. I’m ready,” and Armie slips his fingers out almost at the same time Timmy pulls off of Nick’s cock. 

“You should,” Armie says to him, flipping his hand in the air, and Nick just stares at him. Armie rolls his eyes, but leans forward to kiss his cheek. “On your back, so Timmy can ride you,” he mumbles, and Nick just moves into position. 

He watches as Timmy stands at the foot of the bed. Grabs the lube and squirts some in his hand. Reaches back to spread it over himself while Armie tucks his hair behind his ear. Leans down to kiss his forehead, his cheek, his neck. Wraps his hand around Timmy’s cock which looks like it aches. Gives him a firm stroke and whispers something in his ear. Something that makes Timmy laugh. 

And it all feels so planned until Timmy turns to Niki and smiles. Even his eyes smile, like Nick is making everything feel okays. Timmy says, “Niki,” and straddles his lap. Reaches back for his cock and lifts himself up. Sinks down on it and then presses his entire torso against him. 

Buries his face in Nick’s neck and whispers, “I knew you’d be perfect, Niki. I knew your cock would feel so good in me and you’d be such a good boy. I knew you’d make me feel so good.” And Nick hardly has a moment to register Timmy’s praises before there is the pressure of Armie’s cock against his, against Timmy’s hole. A dull pressure that intensifies as Timmy reaches for Nick’s hand. Finds it and pushes it against the mattress as he buries his face in the crook of Nick’s shoulder. 

It’s so much fucking pressure and Nick gasps, reaches a hand up to the back of Timmy’s head and holds him close whispers, “You’re doing so good, fuck, Timmy, you feel amazing and you have two cocks in you. We want you so much and your ass feels perfect and--”

“_FUCK_,” Timmy says into Nick’s shoulder. “Fucking fuck me and Jesus fucking God damn shit,” he whisper shouts as Nick tries to fight back a shudder because the feeling of Armie’s cock sliding in next to his is unbelieve. It’s unreal and so tight and so hot and so fucking good. “Stop, stop, just don’t fucking move,” Timmy demands. 

Nick feels the trickle of lube on his cock, his pelvis. Armie’s hands, trying to slick every possible surface. 

“Fuck,” Timmy says, dropping his head to Nick’s shoulder. 

“Timmy,” Armie starts. Rests his fists next to Niki. “You look--”

Nick turns his lips to Timmy’s ear, says, “This is amazing, Timmy. So good,” as he reaches between their bodies to touch Timmy’s cock. He’s soft, but he mouths at Nick’s skin. 

“You look fucking beatiful. You’re doing so well and you’re taking both of our cocks and, Timmy, I’m all the way in, okay? Remember, you thought you wouldn’t be able to take both of us all the way, but I’m all the way in and your ass looks so pretty and full and if you want to stop we can--”

“I--” Timmy says, and he finally moves. Just a slow shift of his hips. But he moves and says, “I think, yeah, I think you can.” 

And Armie gives the slowest of thrusts out and then in. When Timmy moans, soft, but audible, Armie asks, “Yeah? You feel our cocks in you, Timmy? Feel me fucking you while Niki stretches your filthy hole? You like that don’t you? Like just being a hole for us to--”

Timmy’s cock starts to harden and Nick jerks him slowly. Venturing down to his balls to toy the skin just before where they meet his cock and then moving back to his cock. 

“Y-es,” Timmy grunts before letting his lips graze up to Nick’s cheek, his mouth. “Niki, baby,” he says without seeming to need anywhere for his acknowledgement to go. 

Nick rests his hands on Timmy’s hips and as Armie thrusts in, Nick pulls out. Not much but a little. Enough so that the slide of his cock against Armie’s is almost too much and he has to remind himself that he has been fucking Timmy for so long now, so long and it feels so good and his ass is so tight and he’s so good such a nice boy and he has needed to come for so long that it’s--

“I’m going to--” Nick admits, thrusting shallowly into Timmy’s ass and then Timmy’s mouth is on his and Armie is fucking Timmy’s ass, rubbing agaisnt Nick and making the pressure seem like too much, so much, everything. 

“Please, Niki, baby, please come in my ass. I want it, I want it, I--” Timmy begs until Nick is coming. Thrusting up into Timmy’s ass as far as he can and burying his face in Timmy’s neck. 

Everything seems to slow down and Timmy lifts his hips so Nick’s cock slips out of him. Raises his hips and lets Armie fuck him. Lets Armie fuck him while Nick keeps stroking his cock and Timmy’s lips form a perfect circle as he comes over Nick’s belly, his chest. A spurt reaching as far as Nick’s chin. 

Armie stills and makes a choked noise. Wraps his arms around Timmy’s waist and whispers, “I love you, I love you, I love you so much, Timmy..”

Eventually, Armie pulls out and rolls to the side. Wraps his arms around Timmy’s waist and pulls him between their bodies. 

“Holy shit,” Timmy states. 

“Right,” Armie says.

Nick licks his lips. “Fuck.”.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just pretend i know how to guesstimate chapter counts. i swear (like actually promise) the next chapter is the last.

On Monday, Nick wakes up in his own bed and it feels suffocatingly large. Without having to share a comforter, he has too much fabric wrapped around his body and he is uncomfortably warm. He stretches and his legs just find more space. His arms spread out and he finds nothing but endless sheets and pillows and he’d joked when Armie and Timmy dropped him off the day before, “I’m going to enjoy every inch of my bed tonight,” because he literally did not know how to say goodbye to them. 

He didn’t enjoy a single inch of it, not for a second. Not even after he touched himself thinking about Timmy’s mouth, because he just felt bad about it afterwards. Tells himself that’s the last time. The weekend is over. All of that is over and out of their systems and things are going back to normal. That’s what has to happen. 

Except it doesn’t happen, not even for a second, because when Nick woke up on Sunday morning, he carefully slid out from under Timmy’s arm and scooted away from Armie’s thigh. Moved glacially so as to not wake them because he needed to shower. Needed to think. 

Grabbed his bag and tiptoed to the bathroom. Locked the door and stared in the mirror. His hair was a mess and and there was still come on his chin. He rubbed at it; thinks about how afterwards, Armie had gotten a washcloth and quickly cleaned Timmy’s come from Nick’s body. Gave him a kiss before asking Timmy to roll onto his belly. Carefully, so fucking carefully, spread his cheeks and wiped the come from his hole, his balls. His thighs. All the while telling Timmy how well he’d done, how beautiful he looked, and “I love that you trusted us so much, Timmy. Niki was so gentle, wasn’t he? He was so good.” 

God, that had been the worst part. That Armie kept including Nick in this like he wasn’t just a cock. It felt like something more when they were fucking. Like he was a part of _something_ even if he didn’t know how to label it or really understand it at all. But he wasn’t. He was a cock and, had he not agreed to fuck Timmy, they would have just gone back to their original plan of buying a dildo and _fuck_ he was so dumb to think he could get this out of his system. 

He’d showered. Used the hotel shampoo. Dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie since they’d just be on the road today. Quietly opened the door and tossed his bag on the cot before grabbing a key from the desk and slipping into the hall. 

For a moment, he thought he’d heard Timmy whisper, “Niki?” but he didn’t want to turn around and check. Didn’t want to see Timmy sleeping with his head on Armie’s chest, one of Armie’s arms curled around his shoulders. Didn’t want to see how easily they slipped back together without Nick between them. How all of their pieces just fit. 

He’d spent the morning eating plate after plate of awful eggs and soggy bacon. Pretended to be enthralled by an article on why millenials are waiting longer to have children when Armie sat down next to him and stole a piece of bacon from his plate. Said, “We were waiting for you to come back,” like an accusation of _something_ and, yet again, Nick didn’t know what. 

“Sorry, I figured you two would still be asleep. Didn’t want to wake you up,” Nick lied. He knows neither of them are able to sleep in. “Checkout’s at eleven, right?”

“Right,” Armie’d said. Clicked his tongue and then stood up. “We’d really like for you to come back,” he’d said before walking away, and it sounded like the truth. And maybe it had been. 

Maybe it had been the truth, but checkout was at eleven so none of it fucking mattered. 

Nick had sat in the backseat on the drive home and tried to keep up with their conversation. Mainly focused on ignoring how Armie kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror. How Timmy kept turning around and smiling at him.

On Monday morning, everything felt too big.  
_____

Nick gets to school early and eats breakfast at his desk. Goes over his lesson plans for the day and remembers he has to supervise a student council meeting at lunch. Which is great because then he can avoid the teacher’s lounge. Not Armie and Timmy. No, he wouldn’t actively avoid them. 

Armie: _Hey want us to bring you coffee? Latte with skim, right?_

Nick puts his phone face down and goes to make copies. 

By the time he gets back to his classroom, the first few students have started to file in and there’s a coffee cup on his desk with “Niki” written on the side in a stranger’s handwriting. 

“Mr. Delli Santi, what’s _goooood_,” Brock all but shouts. He’s one of the football players who surprised Nick by being a very attentive student (“I’m not getting into college based on my good looks,” he’d joked one time and Nick had taken a liking to the kid because everyone knew he was getting into college based on his ability to throw a football.)

Nick laughs and sets his copies down. Picks up his coffee and takes a sip. “Good morning to you, too, Brock,” he says and before he knows it, he’s being drilled on what Netflix shows he watches. 

_____

And that’s how the day drags on. By the end of it, Nick is tired. Tired from repeating basically the same lecture and answering similar questions five times in a row. From standing and pacing and avoiding the hallway where he knows Timmy and Armie are talking between classes. He’s downright exhausted, but when the final bell rings, he orders a sandwich delivery and sits at his desk. Grades papers that he doesn’t need to get back to the students until next week. 

Every footstep past his door makes his heart race, flutter. But no one bothers him, not even to say, “Have a good night!” 

And that’s fine. That’s absolutely fine.

____

Except it’s not fucking fine, Nick decides on Wednesday when his plan of avoiding Armie and Timmy until everything is a distant memory and they can _actually_ go back to the way things were. It’s not fine because he barely even sees Armie and Timmy. Every morning, there’s a cup of coffee on his desk with “Niki” written in different handwriting every day (and the thought of one of them--probably Timmy--telling the barista, “It’s N-I-K-I” every morning is too much to wrap his brain around at such an early hour) but that’s it. 

And it doesn’t make Nick mad, it just makes him disappointed. Because if they aren’t acting normal--if Armie and Timmy are not able to even stop in after school to see if Nick wants to grab a beer or go bowling or _anything_ that is remotely normal--then does it mean things have changed between all of them? Between Nick and Armie, Armie and Timmy, Timmy and Nick, and every variation, every pairing, every single grouping?

Fuck, Nick will never forgive himself if this has fucked up Armie and Timmy. If Timmy moves out and, between classes, they stand silently at their classroom doors, avoiding eye contact. 

On Friday, there’s no coffee. There’s no coffee and Nick sits at his desk, looking over his lesson plans but not really reading them. 

He jumps when Brock walks in and announces, “Special delivery from Lil’ Timmy Tim.” (And Timmy will never live down participating in the talent show this year. Nick and Armie warned him, but he didn’t listen.) He has coffee in one hand and a post-it in the other. Sets the coffee on the edge of Nick’s desk and holds the post-it out by one finger. Asks, “You swooping in on Hammer’s man?”

Nick takes the note and says, “One, you need to refer to them as Mr. Hammer and Mr. Chalamet; you know the rules. Two, I know of no relationship between Mr. Hammer and Mr. Chalamet.” It’s still frowned upon for teachers to be in a relationship, especially when one of them is likely to be running the school in a few short years. 

Brock winks and snaps his fingers at Nick. “Right, right. They’re ‘roommates,’ I forgot,” Brock says with dramatic finger quotations. Asks, “So, are you swooping in on Mr. Hammer’s roommate?” 

“There is no swooping happening, now find your seat,” Nick says, but he can’t help but smile. Takes a sip of his coffee and adds, “And thanks for the special delivery from Grandmaster Chalamet,” which makes Brock laugh.

He tries not to look eager, but glances at the note. 

_Someone keeps bringing our silverware to school and losing it. Ikea tonight? You, me, Armie, SWEDISH MEATBALLS?_

_Happy Friday. _

_Timmy_

Nick tries to hide a grin. Grabs his own post-it and writes _Can I record the inevitable Ikea fight that will take place?_

After all, he’s been meaning to get a new couch. 

He sends the note with Brock after class.

_____

Timmy has awful taste in couches. 

“I don’t even know what ‘Mattsbo’ means,” Nick says as he stares down at Timmy who has made himself very comfortable on what might be the ugliest couch in the entire building. The print looks like multicolored, deformed leaves. “And I’m slightly offended that you think this would look good in my apartment.”

“It’s very loud,” Armie says, like he’s used to making inoffensive comments to steer Timmy away from overly bold choices. 

“It’s a place name,” Timmy says off handedly. “‘Mattsbo.’”

Armie and Nick share a look and Armie rolls his eyes while Nick asks, “Is Swedish nomenclature a hobby of yours?”

Timmy stands up and points at a grey couch across the walkway. “What about that? It’d go well with your boring armchairs,” he says, grinning at Nick and playfully swatting at his chest. “And I read all about how they name things during my planning hour. Bathroom items are Swedish bodies of water, desks are Scandinavian boys’ names, sofas are place names. Oh, wait, but fabrics are girls’ names. Maybe sofa fabrics are girls’ names, then? Mattsbo. That doesn’t sound like a good name,” he muses as he plops down on the couch. Bounces. “This is actually really comfy,” he notes. Sprawls onto his side like he might take a nap. 

It’s all so easy, like it was supposed to be. They’d left after work and Timmy had sat in the backseat. Let Nick take the front. And it was like the weekend hadn’t happened. They talked about students, about plans for finals. Armie mentioned he might need help putting up shelving in the garage this weekend or next, “If you’re free,” he added. 

It was like the weekend hadn’t happened, except it _had_ happened and try as he might, Nick couldn’t look at Timmy without remembering how he’d begged him to come in his ass, how he’d taken Nick into his throat and swallowed him down. Can’t forget how his hole had twitched against his tongue and how he had tasted and, fuck, how much he had loved it and how every time Armie licks his lips or clicks his tongue, his own hole aches with want. 

But it’s not even the sex. It’s this banter. It’s Timmy making fun of his armchairs and Armie looking at Timmy like he doesn’t understand how this human exists and sharing such a glance with Nick. It’s Nick knowing how much Armie despises going to Ikea, but bites his tongue the entire time and lets Timmy try out every single couch even though Nick has no intention of buying a couch tonight. 

It’s Nick wanting to tease both of them in more ways than one. 

_____

They’re eating when Timmy announces, “Mattsbo is a city in Sweden.” He turns his phone to Armie and Nick and reveals a series of grey google images that look cold and welcoming all at once. “So, the fabrics for couches must be named after places, too.” 

Nick pops a meatball in his mouth and points his fork at Timmy. “Okay, but what if the fabrics are used on multiple items? Like a chair with the same pattern?”

Timmy’s entire face lights up and he says, “I have no idea!” and immediately returns to his phone. 

“Oh my god,” Armie says. Grabs Nick’s arm like he’s bracing himself. “I don’t know if I can handle this on a regular basis.”

And Nick is about to apologize, but then Armie’s hand is slipping down his back, wrapping around his waist. Casually holding him while he stabs at his mashed potatoes. 

____

It happens gradually. It happens so slowly that Nick hardly realizes it. 

The next weekend, he goes over to help Armie with the shelves. Timmy is making lasagna and, “Seriously, there’s way too much for the two of us,” he assures Nick when he comes in for a glass of water. Holds out a sampling of the tomato sauce on a spoon. Cups a hand under Nick’s chin and smiles when Nick opens his mouth and takes the bite. 

“It’s good,” Nick smiles. Blushes when Timmy reaches up to swipe at his lip. Comes back with his fingertip red and sucks it into his mouth. “Okay, but I can’t stay long. Meeting up with someone for drinks tonight.”

He pretends he doesn’t notice when Timmy’s face falls for a moment, but he notices. 

On Monday, Armie walks into Nick’s classroom and sits down in one of the front desk. He looks ridiculous. Is entirely too big for the tiny desk. “How was your date?” he asks. 

Nick rolls his eyes. “Not good. She wants to be a food blogger and said she has a strict five date limit before sex.” Nick blushes and adds, “I mean, that’s fine, that’s totally fine. It’s not like I was planning on having sex, but to have a sex plan? That’s weird, right? And to tell the other person within an hour of meeting them? Am I being too picky?”

And Armie laughs and folds his hands on the desk and says, “You should be picky. You deserve to be picky.” Unfolds himself from the desk and asks, “Hey, you can totally say no, but we were going to meet with someone tomorrow night about putting an addition on the house.” He scratches the back of his neck. Looks apprehensive, which is a completely new look for Nick to take in. “I thought you might have some good insight, so we’d love if you came.” 

And that’s how Nick ends up feeling like Myrna Loy, leaning over a stranger’s shoulder and pointing at lines on a grid, saying, “What’s the point of making it a three bedroom if the two guest rooms are the size of a closet?” barely registering the look Timmy and Armie share as he argues vehemently for the two bedroom floor plan instead. 

It happens gradually, like on a Thursday night, three weeks after the conference when Timmy texts Nick a picture of his feet propped up on the coffee table and the Netflix loading screen in the background. 

Timmy: _bored af_  
Timmy: _come over?_

And Nick doesn’t think anything of it and slips on his shoes and grabs his keys. It’s warm enough to go without a coat and he keeps thinking about summer. It’s been in the back of his mind, wondering if this summer will be like the last. If tonight’s any indication, then yes. 

Armie’s at a school board meeting and when Nick gets to the house, the door’s unlocked, so he just knocks and enters. “Hey,” he calls out and Timmy shouts a greeting from the living room. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Timmy gestures at the screen. He’s picked some British cooking show and Nick doesn’t mind at all. Pats the spot next to him and maybe, two weeks ago, Nick would have picked the armchair or at least the couch cushion one over from Timmy, but things seem to have settled down so he sits next to him. Puts his arm over the back of the couch. 

He isn’t the least bit surprised when Timmy leans against him and rests his head on his shoulder. 

They watch two episodes before Timmy asks, “Shit, do you want a beer? Water? I can’t believe I didn’t ask.”

“I mean, I could just get it myself,” Nick laughs. He stands up and jokes, “IPA, right?”

“Fuck you,” Timmy says. Swats at his leg. 

It happens gradually, how they’re both settled on the couch when Armie comes home. “Hey,” he says and loosens his tie. Leans down to kiss Timmy’s lips and then turns and presses his lips to Nick’s cheek. “More cooking shows?”

“More cooking shows,” Timmy confirms while Nick’s cheek burns. Armie sits next to him and slides his hand from Nick’s knee to his thigh. He can’t tell which part of his flesh is hotter.

____

It happens gradually like Nick calling in sick one Friday. 

Timmy: _You need soup?_  
Nick: _no i’m not hungry_  
Armie: _you gotta eat, nick. I’ll get you some soup during my planning period_  
Nick:_ seriously i’m fine_  
Timmy: _Shut up he’s bringing you soup_

____

Armie brings him soup and a case of purple powerade. Says, “Why the fuck aren’t you in bed?” And Nick looks away from the television to say, “The bed is boring?”

And Armie doesn’t speak. Just carries the soup and powerade to Nick’s bedroom and turns the blankets downs. Sits at the end of the bed and when Nick finally joins him says, “Take off your pants. 

So, Nick does. He takes off his pants and crawls into bed. Pulls the covers to his chin. Lets Armie feed him spoonful after spoonful of soup. Snaps open a bottle of powerade and hands it to him. 

“It’s just a cold,” Nick says, but Armie rolls his eyes and stirs the soup.  
____

It all happens so smoothly that Nick doesn’t realize it’s happening.

On Saturday, Timmy comes by with more soup and some coffee. “I put in a bunch of cream so it goes down smoothly,” he explains and hands it to Nick. “But I know I always get a headache when I’m sick because I won’t drink coffee.” 

Nick sits up and asks, “How did you get--”

“Armie’s key. Is that okay?” Timmy sits on the edge of the bed and smooths Nick’s hair back from his head. “You feel warm. Are you sure it’s just a cold?”

“I think it’s just--”

And then Timmy leans down and presses his lips to Nick’s forehead. Not in a kiss, but a check. A temperature check. 

And that. 

That feels like a lot. It feels like that weekend and Nick remembers a hand on the small of his back and a request for extra pillows. A kiss in an elevator and a creaky cot and the way--god, he tried not to remember this, even in the moment trying to will it away--lips would press against his shoulder in the middle of the night. 

He has tried so hard to be good. To leave that weekend at the hotel. He hasn’t even touched himself--not since that first night back--thinking of Timmy’s mouth or Armie’s hands sliding in and out of Timmy’s ass. Of the pressure, the heat. (He thinks about it, sometimes, but quickly as if he doesn’t let his mind focus for more than a few seconds, it doesn’t count.) 

It feels like too much, so he asks, “Why are you even here?” and it comes out like an accusation; Timmy’s face falls for the quickest of seconds. And then he smiles again, tight.

Asks, “Would you prefer Armie bring you dinner tonight?”

“That’s not what I meant, Timmy,” Nick says, and of course starts coughing. Having to lean forward and bury his face in his elbow. Welcoming the touch of Timmy’s hand on his back, rubbing soft circles until the fit passes.

“Then what do you mean? I’m here because you’re sick and we wanted to help.” A long pause and then Timmy takes a few steps back from the bed. Scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll have Armie bring you dinner. Just text if you need anything, okay?”

“Timmy,” Nick starts. Wondering if he should ask Timmy if he’s free. If he’d watch television with him and keep him company. Or if he’d just crawl under the covers and tell him about school on Friday. Was Nick’s substitute good or was it Mr. Shocke who never followed the lesson plans and used every opportunity to lecture about what’s wrong with kids these days.Or maybe they could just lay in silence, comfortably dozing like they had when Nick was playing hookie with him. 

(_Don’t think about that, don’t think about that, don’t--_)

Timmy turns in the doorway and says, “It’s dumb, but I guess after this summer I thought you and I were closer. And I know I’m not Armie but I thought,” he rolls his eyes and then shakes his head. Smiles. “I hope you feel better, Niki.”

And Nick doesn’t know what to say, so he cradles his soup and watches Timmy walk away.

By late afternoon, Nick is feeling better. Or, he doesn’t want to see Armie. One of those things. He texts Armie that he’s doing better and is going to run errands. Tells him he’ll see him on Monday. 

____

It happens slowly, like Timmy not texting him too much during the day and Nick checking his phone constantly, hoping for a blurry picture of a sandwich or shoes. A random, half constructed thought about naps. 

Slowly like the ache of missing someone you didn’t realize filled up so much of your life.  
____

And then it happens all at once. Nick’s half asleep on the couch when there’s a loud knock on his front door and a key in the lock. “Thought you were running errands,” Armie says as he tosses his keys on the end table and sits by Nick’s feet. Starts kneading at the arches of his feet and Nick can’t help the sigh the slips out. 

“It’s almost eleven,” Nick says, trying to sit up. Tries to pull his feet back, but Armie locks a hand on his ankle and holds him in place. Stills him with a glare.

No, not a glare. There’s nothing menacing or icy about it. It’s soft but firm, like he’s prepared for this. Like he’s practiced what he’s about to say. “I can’t stay long,” he says and Nick wishes whatever he’d had to say could have been done on the phone. Thinks,_This is it. He’s picked Timmy and now there’s no space for me._

“Armie--”

“--but I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry if we--if I put you in a weird situation. And I was focused so much on Timmy and, I guess,” he swallows and lets go of Nick’s foot. Stands up and grabs the throw from the back of the couch and tosses it over Nick’s legs. “I just assumed everything was fine with you because of how things used to be between us. And from this summer with you two. And that was stupid of me.”

Nick blinks at him. He feels too hot with the blanket. 

“And I know I said we didn’t want anything else, but I guess I just thought--” he shrugs and each word sounds like it weighs too much. And the focused glare and practiced speech are gone and Armie swallows. Says, “You were just so good to him, Niki. And I realized--or thought I’d realized--that things could be different.”

Nick clears his throat, but he’s not really sure what to say. What this means. Remembers the way Armie sounded when he realized he trusted Nick with Timmy. “Armie, you said you two just wanted--”

“I know we did, okay? I just thought that everything seemed, you know.” He gestures wildly and cracks his knuckles against his chin. “It doesn’t matter. We--I don’t want to lose you as a friend, so I just wanted to stop by and apologize. And make sure you’re okay.” 

Nick nods. “I’m fine, Armie.” 

And he has gotten so used to Armie’s touch that he’s surprised when Armie says, “Okay. Well, let us--” rolls his eyes. “Let me know if you need anything.” And then he leaves.

____

It happens all at once like Nick waking up on Sunday morning and remembering the way Timmy’s face fell when Nick mentioned having a date. When he thought about that weekend and how he kept wanting someone of his own. How he was never confident enough to be intimate with anyone else, not even a fraction of the way he was with Armie and Timmy.

Remembers telling Timmy, “Not without Armie,” as if to say, “Not you without Armie,” when he really meant, “Without Armie?” Because he didn’t want to hurt Armie, didn’t want to use Timmy. Didn’t want to cheapen what might be his only chance.

His stomach aches when he remembers how he had asked Timmy, “Why are you even here?” 

Nick groans into his pillow. Realizes everything after that weekend happened so slowly (slow, like shopping for jeans and organizing closets and garbage disposal installations) he didn’t know he’d fallen in love.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay, hear me out. I said, "OKAY IT IS FINALLY DONE it's 6k" and SOMEONE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED BUT RECENTLY HAD A BIRTHDAY SAID, "gee maybe you should split that in two and cock block everyone." i'm paraphrasing, but that's the gist of it all. 
> 
> so, you get eight chapters. i'll post the rest tomorrow.

The first time Timmy and Nick hung out alone, Timmy answered the door and didn’t even greet Nick. Just flung it open and said, “Thank god you’re here. I heard _movement_,” before walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge. It felt a lot like before Timmy had moved in, when Nick would come over unannounced and Armie would just unlock the door or shout, “It’s open!” 

He’d been barefoot. Wearing one of Armie’s sweatshirts and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. Part of his hair had been pulled up on top of his head and Nick had thought _This is Timmy at home_ and thought he looked better than he ever did at school. 

It had been easy to feel comfortable that night. Because Armie was everywhere, even if he wasn’t there. He was in the simple decor and functional furniture. The thick library books stacked on the coffee table. The to-do list stuck to the fridge and the textbooks on the kitchen island. 

Things hadn’t been weird because, even alone with Timmy, Armie was everywhere. 

_____

By the time Nick gathers the nerve to go over to Armie and Timmy’s house, it’s early afternoon. Only Timmy’s car is in the driveway. Nick parks on the street. Debates leaving. Coming back later or just talking to them on Monday. Or he could text. 

But then he remembers Armie saying, “You were just so good to him,” and that ache in his stomach returns. Stronger than before because he’s had hours to think about that weekend and the way Timmy had trusted Nick. Trusted him like he did Armie. Trusted Nick with his body and his well being. 

(And maybe, somehow, trusted him more than he trusted Armie, at least that weekend. Because he knew Armie’s answer was yes. Knew that Armie would give Timmy what he wanted, what he needed. Would do anything because that’s typical Armie.)

The ache in his stomach is stronger than before because it wasn’t even just the weekend. It was all summer and Timmy going out of his way to keep Nick involved once school started again. It was the copy room and Timmy seeking Nick’s approval and the hotel room when Timmy said, “You should ditch,” because Nick had never been able to tell Armie he didn’t want the same things as him. 

Stronger because he can still feel the way Timmy whispered, “I knew you’d be perfect, Niki,” against his neck.  
______

If it were Armie’s car in the driveway, Nick wouldn’t knock. So, he doesn’t. 

The door is unlocked and Timmy’s shoes are in the entryway. Multiple pairs strewn about with no regard for the mostly empty shoe rack. Nick grins and toes his own shoes off. 

“You’re back early,” Timmy calls from the living room, so Nick follows his voice. Stands in the entryway for a moment, just watching. 

Timmy is cross legged in front of the couch, hunched over the coffee table which is covered in papers. He’s barefoot and his hair is wild like it gets when he’s been playing with it too much. He always plays with his hair when he grades.

(And of course Nick knows that. He knows Timmy plays with his hair when he grades just like he knows Armie has to shower before he eats breakfast.)

Timmy looks up and his eyes are tired.. Armie probably didn’t get home until midnight last night and they more than likely talked about Nick. Maybe Timmy didn’t sleep well and, fuck, that’s Nick’s fault. Promises himself that, if things go well, he’ll never make Timmy lose sleep again.

“Niki,” Timmy says. Sits up and pushes his hair back from his face. Coughs and clears his throat and brings his hand to his mouth. Worries his lower lip with his thumb before saying, “Nick, hey. Sorry, I thought you were Armie. He’s not here right now.” And Nick remembers Timmy’s open-mouthed kisses on his neck. Pushing him away and saying, ‘Not without Armie.’ 

“I know,” Nick says. “I didn’t come to see Armie.” Timmy leans back against the couch and drops his pen to the table. “I mean, I didn’t _not_ come to see Armie. Or, like, I would have come even if Armie was here. I didn’t know he wouldn’t be here and--”

Nick sighs. Takes a deep breath.

“I wanted to see you,” Nick explains, and Timmy’s expression softens, so Nick moves to sit on the couch. His knee bumps Timmy’s shoulder. “Grading day?” 

Timmy nods and says, “Yeah. Final paper drafts.” 

“Anything good?” Nick asks and _why is this so hard?_ How, after that weekend, can he hardly talk to Timmy? Can their conversations (which, after last summer came easily. And the silence was even easier. He could be silent with Timmy for hours, grading papers or reading or watching television) be stilted and awkward? 

Timmy leans away from him and turns his body a bit. Looks up and asks, “Why are you here, Nick?” Licks his lips and closes his eyes. “I told Armie not to go over to your place last night but he didn’t listen and I’m sure he just made things even more--”

“I love Armie,” Nick admits. Swallows and rests his elbows on his knees. Wishes Timmy’s shoulder was still touching his leg, wishes he felt he could reach out and touch him. Not yet, not yet. “I’ve loved Armie for a long time and I need you to know that.”

The admission feels like a lot. He doesn’t know if he’s ever said it out loud, but it feels good. Gives him a sense of confidence that he didn’t have when he parked his car, when he woke up this morning. 

Timmy nods and looks forward at the coffee table. At his pen, the papers. Maybe across the room at the television that hangs above the fireplace. At the mementos on the mantle that used to be bare but have filled up with tchotchkes and pictures since Timmy moved in. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Timmy asks. He unfolds himself and stands up. Turns to Nick. Runs a hand through his hair. “I told you: I’m not stupid. I know you only fucked me because Armie was there. I know we’re only--” he stops and takes a deep breath. “I know we’re only friends because of Armie and I--”

He pauses when Nick leans forward to press a kiss to his belly. Bracing Timmy’s hips with his hands and kissing him through the t-shirt that smells like Armie. God, it’s probably Armie’s shirt and, for a moment, Nick wishes it was his shirt. Or, wishes it was a shirt that smelled like him and Armie. That smelled like him and Armie without it being a mingled scent because they used the same shampoo and soap and deodorant. Because they washed their clothes together and, really, Timmy’s shirt would smell like all of them, together. 

Timmy whispers, “Armie’s not here,” like Nick needs a reminder. Says, “He’ll be back--”

Nick kisses his belly again. Pulls his hips to guide Timmy onto his lap. Guides him into his lap and opens his mouth against Timmy’s neck. Whispers, “I know, Timmy. Is this okay?” 

Timmy’s curls tickle Nick’s skin as he nods his head. 

Nick kisses up to Timmy’s jaw, his cheek. Stops and licks his lips before leaning forward and gently kissing Timmy’s chin. Kissing his chin like it’s the most precious part of Timmy. 

Says, “Timmy, I love you, too.” Lets the words hang in the air as Timmy stares at him. Hair falling into his eyes and mouth opening. Closing. Trying to form words. Says, “And if Armie was saying what I think he was last night--”

Timmy blurts out, “He was.” His cheeks flush and Timmy closes his eyes. Bites his lip and rests his forehead against Nick’s. 

Nick smiles. Slips his hands up Timmy’s body. Under his shirt to rest on the thin frame of his waist. “Then, okay.” Guides Timmy, who seems more than malleable right now, down onto his lap. “I want to try this.” 

Timmy’s hands come to rest on Nick’s shoulders. He starts, “Do you--”

“I’m going to kiss you,” Nick whispers. 

And Timmy tilts his chin back. Keeps just out of Nick’s reach. Says, “Armie’s not here,” and Nick can almost hear the smirk on his voice. 

Nick rolls his eyes and slides a hand out of his shirt to grip Timmy’s chin. Slides his other hand down to the soft swell of Timmy’s ass and whispers, “I know,” and then kisses Timmy. Soft but firm. Slipping his hand from his chin to the back of his head and holding him close as Timmy opens up to him. As his hands soften on Nick’s shoulders, a tension that Nick hardly noticed releasing. Move to the back of his head. Find their way into the short stubble at the back of his head. One of them moving up to the longer locks on top and weaving through. 

Nick pulls back enough to whisper, “I’m sorry,” (because he is, he fucking is. Never wanted Timmy to think for a single moment that he wasn’t needed and wanted and loved, that Nick didn’t love him without Armie or with him, that Timmy wasn’t as much, that he was less), to which Timmy immediately responds, “Shut up,” before pressing back against his lips. Before wrapping his arms around Nick’s neck as Nick grips his thighs. Turns him over onto the couch and slots their bodies together.   
____

Nick got used to Armie being hit on. They’d be at the cafeteria and someone would approach their table. Slide in next to Armie and steal some food from his tray. Ask how classes were going, what he was up to this weekend, if he needed some company. And Nick would bury himself in his food, a book. Clench his jaw and try not to listen as Armie made soft plans that Nick could tell he’d blow off. 

But then there was the time a hand slipped onto Nick’s thigh and thin fingers stole a fry from Nick’s tray. Lips stayed too close to his ear as they whispered a time and a place and Nick said, “Yeah, that sounds good,” while watching Armie’s face for a reaction.

Watching Armie’s face for a reaction that didn’t come. 

It didn’t come as they finished their food and dropped their trays off. As they walked back to the dorms and talked about whether or not they should go to the football game later. If they should hit up a party later that night. 

It didn’t come as Nick unlocked the door and tossed his keys on his desk. Turned to ask Armie _something_ but could not remember what question was on his tongue when Armie dropped to his knees and gripped the waist of Nick’s jeans. Opened his pants and stroked his cock. Sucked him down and looked up at him, greedy for cock and contact and everything Nick could give him. 

Afterwards, asked, “You’re not going out with them, are you?” Used his thumb to push a drop of Nick’s come that was lingering on his lip into his mouth and swallowed. 

Nick shook his head. 

_____

Nick has a hand in Timmy’s hair and another cupping his cock through his jeans when the door slams shut. The sound of keys clattering against the entryway table isn’t enough to deter Nick, who bites softly at Timmy’s collarbone before pressing his dick hard against Timmy’s thigh. Whispering, “I love this, I love you,” into his skin but turning his head as Armie walks into the room. 

Making eye contact while licking a stripe up Timmy’s neck. 

Armie’s mouth opens. Then closes. And he smiles and sits down in the armchair closest to the couch. Asks, “Yeah?” His knee bounces, nerves shaking their way out, and Nick nods. “Yeah,” Armie responds. Grins. Presses his palm to his mouth, then draws his fingers along his lips and smooths them against his cheek. “Niki,” he murmurs. Quietly asks, “You’re sure?” 

And Nick grins at Armie then turns back to Timmy, who grips the back of Nick’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. His tongue just as greedy as Armie’s mouth and Nick’s mind. 

_____

After the last time, things didn’t get weird. They became different, but not weird. Nick and Armie did everything the same except without a hand on a knee or a kiss to the cheek. They spoke as much as before, just without phrases like, “Want you to come on my face, Niki,” or “Love touching you, love your big cock.” 

If anything, they became closer. Spoke more about their families and their futures. What they wanted out of college, this year, this day. 

Nick expected things to get weird. When they didn’t, he stayed up all night, blinking at the ceiling and trying to wrap his mind around how he and Armie went to the gym. Worked out and showered next to one another without so much as a glance at the other’s cock. 

Wondered if what had happened between them was a fluke, a dream. 

It was months later when Armie walked into Nick’s bedroom. Slipped through the night and sat on the edge of his bed. Ran a hand through Nick’s hair and then leaned down and kissed his chin. Said, “Sleep well, Niki.” 

And then he was gone and he never did it again, but Nick would wait for him every night.

______

They move to the bedroom. 

They move to the bedroom and Nick stumbles over a pair of Timmy’s pants and Armie laughs. Catches him by the elbow and then draws him close. Kisses his cheek and whispers, “You’ll get used to it,” in reference to the deft way Armie avoids Timmy’s messes that have taken over the house. 

Nick pulls him into bed and lets Armie undress him. Lets him kiss along his chest, his torso. Leans into Timmy’s touch as he rolls onto the bed next to him. Kisses Nick’s cheek, his nose. Slips his tongue past Nick’s lips as Armie tugs Nick’s pants off his hips. Kisses the head of his cock before softly sucking it into his mouth. 

Stays there briefly while one of Nick’s hands blindly searches for his hair. The other coming up to cup Timmy’s jaw. It all feels so warm and right. Different. Different than that weekend when Nick wanted to try everything he was allowed to because that was his chance. When everything felt slightly rushed and not enough because they checked out of their room and Nick wanted more.

But right now, he could stay like this and it would be enough. There’s time for more tomorrow, or next week. Maybe later tonight, even. 

Except, there is one thing. One thing that Nick has wanted, has been wanting. That he’s thought about more than a kiss on the chin. 

Nick draws his legs up. Bends his knees and pulls Armie off his cock. Turns away from Timmy long enough to make eye contact with Armie, whose mouth is slick with spit and precum. Eyes are wide as he silently asks permission. Nick nods. 

_____

Nick tried once. A drunken night spent getting too close to Armie just to pull back at the last second. It was months before Timmy came into the picture and Nick had gone home thinking about Armie’s hand on his back, his smile. They way he’d lick his lips and dart his eyes to Nick’s mouth, then back to his eyes as they spoke. 

He tried once with his eyes closed and the lights off. A hand on his cock and thoughts of Armie’s mouth, his fingers, his cock flashing through his mind. His voice whispering, “You take it so well, Niki. Gonna take my cock, too? Gonna let me come deep in your pretty ass and lick you clean afterwards, aren’t you?” 

He tried once and never again because every time he’d think about it, he’d think about Armie and, fuck, he had really needed to stop thinking about Armie.   
____

Armie’s hands settle on the backs of Nick’s knees. Push back and expose his hole and it’s so fucking stupid--

Stupid because Armie tasted Timmy’s ass on Nick’s cock, because Timmy took them both, came from being stretched so wide that, afterwards Armie had whispered, “Feel him, Niki. Feel how soft he is right now,” and dragged Nick’s fingers to Timmy’s hole. Pushed them in and he had been so relaxed, half asleep, and Nick had twisted two fingers, three into his ass and felt the slick slide of lube and come inside Timmy. 

Stupid because Armie has seen him before, has licked him and wanted him.

\--but Nick thinks about Timmy’s hairless hole. His slight, pert ass and thin hips and how he is nothing like that, how he is nothing like Timmy and why would Armie want him when he has Timmy? When he has _Timmy_. 

Nick instinctually starts to close his legs when he feels Armie’s breath on his ass, but Armie’s strong. Pulls his thighs apart and whispers, his voice gravely with want, “No, no, no, baby. Niki, please. Let me look at you.” 

Nick’s eyes flutter open and he’s met with Timmy’s face too close to his. Or not close enough because he’d really like to be kissing him, really like something to do with his mouth other than try to hold back the words, “Armie, stop,” because he doesn’t want to say them. He doesn’t want Armie to stop, not this time. Doesn’t think he’ll ever want either of them to stop. 

Timmy offers a soft smile like he _knows_ and pushes Nick’s hair back a bit. Kisses his nose, then his lips, and, fuck, Armie kisses the crease between his ass and his thigh. Hisses, “Fuck, Niki look at you,” and then licks over his hole. Up to his balls and sucks one, then the other, into his mouth. Moves back to his crack and, fuck, Nick can’t help his hips from jerking up, pushing back. From wanting Armie’s tongue on him, inside him, everywhere. 

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Timmy muses against Nick’s lips. Playfully nibbles at him before admitting, “Sometimes, he opens me up so well he can just fuck me right afterwards. Fucks me with that big cock because I’ll be dripping and open and ready for him.” 

Nick doesn’t know what to do, so he frantically nods and pulls Timmy’s mouth against his. Kisses him and moans into his mouth as Armie roughly licks at his hole, buries his face in Nick’s ass and, fuck, _fuck_ he’s enthusiastic. Groans--no, no he fucking growls--against Nick’s skin and shifts to wrap his arms around Nick’s thighs. Holds him in place while toying at his rim. Not pressing in but offering quick dips and firm circles until Nick forgets he’d ever wanted to close his legs, ever wanted to hide from Armie, from this. 

He lets his legs fall open more, trusts Armie to take care of him. Trusts Timmy to hold him together as Armie tries to take him apart with his mouth. 

“Wait until he gets his fingers in you,” Timmy whispers before reaching for Nick’s cock. Not even stroking him, just holding him in his palm. A gesture that seems taken just because Timmy can. It feels like a kiss on the cheek while waiting in a checkout line or a wink from across the room at a school board meeting. An affection that is theirs and only theirs, but they don’t care if anyone else witnesses. 

Let them watch.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Thank you to everyone who has read this, especially those of you who have messaged me on Tumblr or elsewhere about how this fic resonated with you. I did not expect that at all and have loved every conversation. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Armie softly slaps Nick’s ass. Immediately presses a kiss to the cheek and then sits back. Lowers Nick’s legs to the bed before sliding over his body. The roughness of his jeans a contrast to the comfortable t-shirt stretched over his chest and, fuck, Nick feels useless. His legs are weak, his hole already lose and aching just from Armie’s tongue and Armie and Timmy are still dressed. 

“This isn’t too much?” Armie whispers against Nick’s neck. “We can wait, if you want.” Bites at Nick’s jaw and offers, “You could fuck me instead. I could ride your cock and we could make all of Timmy’s wet dreams come true,” he laughs as Timmy rolls off the bed. 

Harder when Timmy pulls his shirt off and uses it to whip at Armie’s back. “You are _not_ allowed to use my drunken confessions against me,” Timmy says, but he’s laughing too as he drops his shirt to the floor and starts pushing his pants off his hips. “And it wasn’t a wet dream because I came _after_ I woke up. Remember? You were there.”

Armie shrugs and sits back. Looks down at Nick and says, “Anyways, the point is you don’t have to--”

“I want Timmy to fuck me,” Nick blurts out. He’s not sure why he says it, but once it’s in the air he can’t take it back. Doesn’t want to take it back because he does want Timmy to fuck him. Not that he doesn’t want Armie to. Not that he hasn’t waited _years_ for Armie to fuck him. But because it feels right and, really, there’s always later. Swallows. “Is that okay?”

He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks over at Timmy, who is precariously balanced on one foot as he pulls a sock off. Eyes wide and mouth open as he looks between Nick and Armie like he’s not sure who is supposed to answer this question. Nick isn’t really sure who he was asking anyways. 

“Is that _okay_?” Armie repeats. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to kill me,” Armie hisses and then rolls off of Nick’s body. Undresses while he looks over the bed at Timmy, who has tossed the sock to the side and is hopping trying to pull the other one off. Nick is about to take it back, beg Armie to fuck him. But then he realizes the blush creeping from Armie’s chest up to his neck, his cheeks. The way he looks at Timmy as if trying--in vain, obviously--to tell him to shut up. 

Timmy grabs the lube from the bedside table--

(And _that_ makes Nick’s stomach flutter more than any first kiss. They leave their lube out because they don’t feel the need to hide it away in a drawer. Hell, Nick’s lube is in a bathroom cabinet because he was worried about looking presumptuous [which ended up never being a problem because he was the only person who ever _used_ the lube.] Because they are open enough with one another to _be_ presumptuous. To tell one another their fantasies and actually act on those fantasies and trust one another enough to try, at least just try. 

Or, maybe Nick’s reading too much into it and Timmy’s messy. Barely remembers to put the cap back on let alone sneak it back in the drawer.)

\--and flops down beside Nick. Kisses his shoulder and says, “Armie loves to watch, Niki. Sometimes,” he trails his fingers along Nick’s side. Gives him a soft push until Nick is rolling onto his belly. “Sometimes, he just wants to watch me finger myself. Or, he’ll ask me to jerk off for him. Ask me to come on his chest, his face. He loves watching, so can you even imagine how much he wants to watch me fuck you, Niki? Remember how turned on he was from just watching me suck your cock?”

“You’re _such_ a brat,” Armie laughs. 

Nick is so wrapped up in Timmy’s words, in the realization that he’s now included in the sharing of fantasies--that what they want is what he wants. That he is part of this, part of them, that he can tell them things he hasn’t even felt comfortable admitting to himself--that he doesn’t hear the snick of Timmy flipping the lube open. Doesn’t even register that Timmy has moved to kneel between his legs. Hasn’t even thought about what is happening until there’s a slick finger pressing against his hole. Until Armie is sitting on the edge of the bed and trailing his fingers down Nick’s spine, the small of his back. Pulling at his ass cheek as Timmy’s finger slips in. 

Until Armie groans, “Oh, fuck me, that’s hot,” while Nick laughs into the pillow.   
_____

Nick is surprised how everything feels like a first time without feeling like _the_ first time. Timmy is gentle. Fucks Nick so slowly with one finger until Nick is lifting up onto his knees. Trying to take Timmy deeper. To take more, more, please--

“So good, Niki,” Armie whispers. Rolling on his back to look up at him. Reaching under his body to stroke his cock and say, “Feels good? Timmy’s so gentle when he wants to be. He’s going to make it good, Niki.”

\--and Timmy gives in. Slips another finger in and curls them inside Nick. Pulls them almost all the way out before inching back. Twisting once he’s inside and then starting to build a rhythm. A pace that Nick can fall into, can thrust against. That Armie can match on his cock until Timmy is asking if he’s ready for a third and Nick is nodding. Panting as he cranes his neck to kiss Armie, who lifts his head to meet him halfway. 

A pace that’s so good that the moment Timmy starts to press in another finger, Nick is shaking his head and gasping, “Stop, stop, gonna--fuck, I’m--stop, just,” and then all but screaming, “No,” when Timmy tries to pull his fingers out. “I need a second, please, I don’t want to come right now, oh fuck, Timmy, just.”

He blushes at how desperate he sounds, but he doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed because Armie is squeezing the base of Nick’s cock, just enough like he _knows_ and of course he knows. He knows Nick’s body, Timmy’s fingers. Armie is squeezing his cock and promising, “Not now, but one of these days we’re going to make you come from just our fingers.” 

Nick shudders out a breath. Says, “Looking forward to it,” with a soft smile. Quietly admits, “I think I’m ready,” even if he has no idea. No idea if he’s actually ready or if he’ll ever be ready, but knowing he needs more right now. 

Timmy’s fingers are quick inside of him, and then there’s a firm wetness edging in alongside those fingers as they come to a pause deep inside him. “Timmy,” Armie warns, and then Timmy’s fingers and tongue are gone and Nick simultaneously appreciates and hates Armie. Forgets what to feel when Armie twists his hand on Nick’s cock. 

“Fine, fine,” Timmy says. Promises, ‘Next time.”

And then there’s fumbling and Nick loves how unplanned this feels. The opposite of that weekend when he felt like an extra in a movie who accidentally wound up with too many lines. No, this is natural and Nick laughs as Armie tries to tug Nick partially onto his body and Nick falls on him with an, “Oof,” from both men. “Sorry, sorry,” Nick said, even though he didn’t really mean it because he situated himself a bit better. Pressed his cock against Armie’s hip and let Armie pull his thigh up a bit. Spreading him open for Timmy, who, Nick could hear, was slicking his cock with lube _somewhere_ behind them. 

Spreading him open with one hand while wrapping his other around to finger him. To hum into Nick’s ear and whisper, “Timmy’s got you so wet, Niki. Going to make this feel so good, I promise, okay?”

Nick nods and then Armie’s fingers are replaced by the blunt head of Timmy’s cock. Armie’s words suffocated by Timmy saying, “If you need to stop, Nick, just tell me. I know the first time can be, you know. A lot.” 

And then Nick clutches at Armie’s hair, his neck as Timmy starts to press his cock inside. Stretching him out so slowly, a firm hand on his ass, the small of his back. Pushing him against Armie, pushing his cock into Armie’s thigh and as the head of Timmy’s cock slips past Nick’s ring, he can hardly feel the slight pinch of pain because he can feel Timmy and Armie _everywhere_ and their bodies are so warm and giving and Nick suddenly gets how Timmy was able to take them both. How he was able to open himself up, give himself over, let them take him because he feels safe and wanted. Maybe even needed. 

“Do you need a--” Timmy starts, his voice strained. Thumb massaging Nick’s hip. 

“Don’t stop, please,” Nick whispers, and then drops his head onto Armie’s shoulder. Starts to press back against Timmy’s cock, forward against Armie’s thigh. Taking more of Timmy’s cock with each thrust back, his grind against Armie’s thigh becoming slicker as his precum drips between their bodies, lube rolls down his balls onto Armie’s skin. 

“I’m not even,” Timmy gasps like he can’t believe it. “Fuck, Niki, take what you need baby, just take what you need.” Then, to Armie, himself. “He feels amazing. God, I wish you could see this, he looks so fucking beautiful,” and runs his thumb along Nick’s rim as he continues to push back onto Timmy’s cock. 

Takes him slowly until he’s deep, so deep, and Armie’s words against his flesh are so gentle, “I know he is, I know.”  
_____

It was weeks after Armie and Timmy gradually became something that Nick was slightly jealous of, that he came the closest. Got drunk and downloaded Grindr for the umpteenth time (God, he’d download the fucking app, meet up for drinks, never follow through, and then spend his entire Sunday avoiding his phone because he knew the messages would be embaressing, knew he wouldn’t want to read them, knew that none of it was really him. Delete, delete, delete.)

He met up with a guy who was almost his height, but not quite. Bulkier in the shoulders but slimmer in the waist and he had short blond hair that looked like it might be curly if he grew it out. They got drinks which turned into dinner which lead to more drinks at the bar and a hand on Nick’s knee, his thigh. Questions about teaching, about the school, his friends. Where he saw himself in ten years and Nick thought, _This is happening, maybe this is happening,_ and blushed as the guy slipped his hand to the inside of Nick’s thigh. Casually slid his card to the bartender, waving off Nick’s insistence to pay.

Let the guy hold his hand and lead him across the parking lot. Had already made up his mind that this was going to be the night, this was going to be the guy. He let the guy push him against his car and kiss him, let his hands roam underneath Nick’s shirt, slip below his waistband. Trace a finger along his crack as he whispered, “Bet you love taking cock, don’t you?”

And the guy had asked where Nick wanted to _retire_ for fuck’s sake, so he felt comfortable (God, it was the first _date_ and he already felt blindingly comfortable like an idiot) saying, “I’ve never, actually.” Then went in for another kiss, tried to push his leg between the guy’s thigh but was met with a hand on his chest. 

“Wait, what? You’re a virgin?” The guy laughed and didn’t move back, but he didn’t let Nick come closer. “You’re joking, right? Fuck.”

“I’m not a--” Nick swallowed and it felt ridiculous to even say. He was, in some way, whatever. “I’ve just never, you know. I mean, we can still--”

At that, the guy pushed away from Nick and shook his head. “No, no, I’m not dealing with all that for a one night stand.”

He’d asked about where Nick grew up. What his parents were like. God, this was supposed to be it. They were supposed to keep things quiet for a bit then eventually he’d introduce him to Armie and Timmy and they’d all have someone and--

The guy unlocked his car and walked around to the driver’s side. “Bit of advice: a lot of guys are into that, just not me. Update your profile.”

And then he was gone and Nick felt so stupid. Told himself that, next time, he’d just lie. Knew that he probably wouldn’t let there be an actual next time. 

_____

“That’s it,” Timmy says when he’s all the way inside. “That’s it, Nick, just let me take care of you now. You want me to fuck you? Nice and slow?” he asks while building a firm rhythm that, with every thrust, grinds Nick’s cock against Armie’s thigh. Armie’s against Nick’s stomach. 

It’s a lot and it’s so much and Nick feels himself slipping into the steady safety of their bodies, letting himself be pushed and pulled between them. Trying to push and pull with them, but eventually giving in to their strength when Armie whispers, “Niki, let us take care of you, okay?” Kisses Nick’s cheekbones and lowers his voice to ask, “You going to come on me? Come because you like rubbing off on me, love having Timmy’s dick buried in your ass? Bet you’re already thinking about me fucking you, too. Thinking about later, when I’m going to ride your cock. When I’m going to sink on that big cock of yours and make you come again, deep inside me so I’ve covered in your seed, Niki, inside and out.” 

Nick nods and then his hips stutter as he’s overwhelmed by everything all at once and he knows he’s coming but it’s so hard to differentiate the absolute joy of being enveloped by Armie and Timmy--how it felt to be Armie and Timmy and Nick instead of Armie and Timmy (and Nick)--from his release. He can’t help himself from grinding back on Timmy’s cock, his ass tightening and trying to take more, more, everything before falling against Armie. Collapsing into him, followed by Timmy, who thrusts in one last time before groaning in Nick’s ear. Maybe saying something sweet, but Nick momentarily forgets how to hear, how to talk, how to do anything but feel complete. 

“Jesus,” Armie hisses. Grabs Nick’s hips and grinds up against him, his own release coming quick and hot against Nick’s stomach. 

Timmy slips out of Nick and rolls to his side. Nick attempts to move, but Armie wraps his arms around him and holds him close.   
_____

Later, (after Armie makes good on his promise and rides Nick’s cock while Nick clumsily tries to suck Timmy off) Armie checks his phone and says, “Fuck. We really need to go to bed. We’re meeting with the remodelers tomorrow after school.” Blindly grabs for Nick as he tries to get out of bed. “Where the fuck are you going?”

Nick shoves Armie’s hand away but leans down in the dark to kiss him. Run his hand through TImmy’s hair. “I need clean clothes for tomorrow. Pick me up in the morning?”

Armie sighs. Returns the kiss and says, “Fine. Love you, Niki.”

Timmy mumbles something that sounds like, “Love you,” into his pillow, so Nick leans down and kisses the back of his head, his shoulder.   
_____

On Monday, Armie calls Nick before he gets in the shower. Tells him they’ll pick him up in an hour. “So be ready,” Armie says. “I already have to deal with one maniac making me late because his hair doesn’t look good, even though,” Armie must hold the phone away from his mouth as he shouts at Timmy, “it looks exactly the same as it always does. Anyways, and then after school we can all go meet with the remodelers and--”

“The remodelers?”

Armie sighs. “Remember? I told you we were meeting the remodelers after work.”

“I remember, I just figured you meant you and--”

“I literally said, ‘We’re meeting with the remodelers after school,’ Nick,” and his words seem annoyed but his tone his playful, like he realizes that Nick is actually understanding the weight of them. That _they_ are meeting with the remodelers. Together, as one.

Nick nods. “Okay. I’ll see you in an hour, Armie.” They’re meeting with the remodelers tonight and Nick can’t stop smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELIOOLIVER. You're A+.
> 
> bartbarthelme on tumblr.


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